Darkness
by BiJane
Summary: Sequel-of-sorts to Changes and Light. Third year: the Dementors guard Hogwarts from escaped convict Sirius Black, and yet they too appear to be at threat, from an unknown foe.
1. Screams

**Hello again!  
One more sequel of sorts to Changes, though it's really a sequel to Light, if anything. Set in the same world. The Doctor has visited Hogwarts previously.  
This chapter pretty much just sets things up. There will be twists and turns, (what else would you expect from me? :p) as well as a few moments I just couldn't resist adding. one such moment is in this chapter.  
This is just the start. Enjoy! **

"I am sorry to say," Dumbledore's voice boomed out over the Great Hall, "That this year, Hogwarts will play host to the Dementors of Azkaban."

Silence greeted his words.

At the same time as Dumbledore delivered his speech to the hall of students, one of the forbidding, black-cloaked figures was gliding through the rain, lifeless skin just peering out from the coarse, dark fabric.

One of many. A group, a _swarm _of black abominations, darker than even the thick cloud cover which pelted the rain down. Happiness, heat and life was drained from the grass and land around them; death walked in their path.

Shadow garbed the Dementor; its presence brought frost to the grass, and the huge swarm brought clouds. And darkness descended, as if it was as good a cloak as the black the fiend already wore.

The Dementor glided onwards, over frosted grass, lean, predatory, dark.

And it screamed.

O

Rowena of Ravenclaw could remember the odd visitor to Hogwarts the last year. The Doctor, he'd been called. An investigator; called to examine the oddities plaguing the school.

She was in her last year now; which wasn't shaping up well. Dementors in Hogwarts, to catch that prisoner. Sirius Black. Still, she'd get through it. Hopefully.

Yet her thoughts kept drifting back to that investigator. The Doctor. Last year, things had felt a little off; just…irregular almost, incorrect. Something unnatural had been going on; especially if you counted the Chamber of Secrets, and the centaur, and the rocket within the Forest.

This year, there was the same feeling; an instinctive wrongness. Everyone felt it, they just didn't admit it.

Rowena was acting on it.

It was dark; but really not that late. The Dementors had made the night come sooner. Even the natural world was affected by their presence; it made the seventh year shiver.

She tentatively walked through the courtyard. Alone. Abandoned. Most people were holed up, at the slight risk of a Dementor attack; Rowena was fighting off that fear as she moved. Her intended destination was the Doctor's room; the classroom he'd converted. While the investigator was no longer here, maybe there was a way to contact him.

A whoosh of black.

Breath condensing on the air, Rowena turned sideways, sudden, jerky, afraid. A Dementor was just there; steps away. Yet, strangely, she wasn't depressed. Well, not as much as she should be.

The girl in her last year frowned, taking a step back from the Dementor.

The fiend's black cloak turned; its body was unseen, though the cloak made her aware of each movement. Something stared directly at her from behind the sable hood.

The Dementor turned entirely, facing Rowena completely, sides of the cloak billowing in an unknown wind. It glared with empty eyes.

Rowena was oddly reminded of the Grim Reaper, that Muggle fairy tale. Black hood, and a cloak of the purest, deepest black.

She fumbled for her wand, inexplicably worried. It shouldn't be scaring her; it shouldn't harm her. It shouldn't. But it didn't feel anything like a normal Dementor; fear raced through her system, erasing all signs of depression.

Silent, the Dementor glided forwards, cloak spread wide as it rushed Rowena. Darkness emanated from it, consuming, devouring.

The fiend reached her, cloak snaking over her body.

A scream.

O

Divination. Not the most fun lesson, decidedly.

Harry wasn't all that glad he'd taken it for this year, but nonetheless, he was here. And he wasn't quite as annoyed about it as Hermione; who had somehow entered the lesson without them noticing.

In the centre of the class was their teacher, Professor Trelawney, a slightly crazy, perpetually wide-eyed woman.

"Welcome," her misty voice carried through the room.

As her vacant introduction was related, the students did their best not to look out the window, not to be distracted by the driving rain. Even after Dumbledore's pronouncement, some Dementors entered the forbidden grounds of Hogwarts; one such fiend was visible out the window. Some wizards could be seen throwing animals of light at it, driving it away.

Concentrating through the drowse-inducing incense, Harry, Ron and Hermione swallowed a cup of scalding tea, beginning the first lesson in tea-leaves reading. Not the most stimulating skill, but they focused on it with as much effort as they could, despite the aura of the room, which seemed to sap their concentration.

"That's a…" Ron paused, frowning at Harry's cup, "Looks like a bell," the redhead consulted his copy of the textbook, "So apparently you're going to get some unexpected news. And that's a boat…so you're going to meet a friend. Well, I'm here, so that one's happened. And that's a finger…" Ron frowned

"Emphasizes whatever it points it," Harry supplied, flicking through his book, "Which is…that," the black haired boy gestured to a sodden mass of tea leaves, the last piece in his cup.

"I think that's…a table? Or is it scissors. Well, it's either a club or a quarrel coming for ya. Good luck. As long as it's nothing like Lockhart's mess of a club last year."

"Mm," Harry nodded, remembering the fiasco, before looking at Ron's cup. "Well, that's a mess, or an octopus, which means danger, but _that's _a harp. Harmony. So you're in danger, but it's going to be calm. And flirtatious judging by that fan."

"At least I'm not quarrelling with a finger," Ron retorted.

The muffled their laughter as Trelawney neared. The wispy seer seemed drawn to the duo; and after a few seconds, mildly rudely, had snatched away Harry's cup.

"Ah, my boy," Trelawney seemed to exhale excessively as she spoke, sounding more like a gust of wind than a teacher, "The goat…" she kept rotating the cup, "My dear, you must be careful of your enemies-"

"Obviously," Hermione surprised everyone by interrupting, rolling her eyes.

"Excuse me?" Trelawney semi-snapped, yanked out of her reverie

"I think everyone needs to be careful of their enemies," she stated, so that the entire class could hear.

Harry and Ron stared at her, in a bizarre mix of admiration and surprise. It wasn't often that she spoke back to teachers; especially in that fashion.

"Yes, yes," Trelawney hastily moved on, "And this…" she peered at the leaves Ron identified as a table. "It is…"

The teachers topped her eerie speech, dropping the glass with a quick gasp. Somewhere over the other side of the room, there was a tinkle as Neville broke his cup.

"This is not a happy cup," she murmured. "It would be kinder not to say."

"What is it, miss?" Lavender asked keenly.

Indeed, most of the class was listening in; thoroughly absorbed by her monologue.

"Very well," the divination teacher slowly spoke, staring with wide eyes, "It is…the Grim."

The class inhaled as one; a moment spoiled somewhat by Dean Thomas: "What's a Grim?"

"My dear," Trelawney stared, "The Grim is an omen, the worst omen, of death."

Before anyone could react, a voice was heard, booming throughout the castle. Everyone stiffened; listening intently. As the speech continued, Trelawney seemed a little disappointed, as well as tense. Most of the class shared that tension.

The voice belonged to Dumbledore: he was not present, instead he magically amplified his voice, to be heard throughout the entirety of Hogwarts: "All students to return to their Common Rooms. All students, class is dismissed, return immediately to your Common Rooms. Prefects and teachers to the West Courtyard."

There was a rustle of fumbling and packing, before the class quickly made their way out of the room. The combination of Dementors, and the urgency in the headmaster's tone, was incredible motivation.

Outside the window, Harry noted with interest, a large group of unidentifiable wizards, teachers mostly, held a Dementor at bay with bright, white light from their wands. However, it took a shining white phoenix, borne of magic and sent from somewhere in Hogwarts, before it was truly repelled.

O

Several minutes later, each and every Prefect in Hogwarts was gathered in the courtyard, a chaotic rabble despite their standing. The teachers were also there, and they weren't behaving much better; babbling among themselves.

"Silence!" Dumbledore boomed, wand at his throat to amplify the noise.

The command instantly made the crowd hush. Nervous, the whole group looked towards the tree in the centre of the courtyard; where the headmaster stood.

Dumbledore did not speak. Instead, wordlessly, he pointed with his wand to something by the wall; it had been covered with a blanket formed by magic. The headmaster withdrew the covering, flicking it into the air, and dissolving it into a series of sparks.

Beneath it was a black, damp, tattered cloak. A sheet of fabric; easily recognizable. It was one Dementors wore. Yet there was no sign of the fiend which normally inhabited it.

Still silent, Dumbledore levitated the cloak. Beneath it…

More, frantic, scared murmurings began in the crowd. Prefects looked at each other, teachers muttered amongst themselves, cautious, preparing, but most of all, afraid.

"This is why I have summoned you," Dumbledore was forced to magnify his voice to be heard over the driving rain, and the babble of voices; "Such a situation has not occurred before, and I am not alone in thinking we need help."

A pause. The audience frowned.

"Last year, as some of you may recall, we were visited by a man who seemed wiser than many of us, myself included. He saved us then, even if you are not aware of it. His name was the Doctor."

Remus Lupin, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, raised his eyebrows at that name, turning to the headmaster, much more interested.

"Have you heard of him, Remus?" Dumbledore lowered his volume, speaking curiously to Lupin, as if to a friend

"By reputation," the teacher conceded, nodding, "There was a woman when I attended Hogwarts, River Song. She spoke of him; she said to trust him, if we ever met."

Dumbledore nodded, interested by the new piece of information. However, he still continued speaking. The Prefects and minor teachers watched.

"The Heads of Houses and I have come to the conclusion that the Doctor is again needed. And so I have called you, to be witness. While I am against anything so abrupt, I feel there is no choice."

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, took a stepped forward. A little distance away, the lost cloak of a Dementor rippled, over something else. Rain poured down over them, soaking the cloak and Dumbledore through.

Dumbledore raised his wand high, before proclaiming in a clear, loud voice:

"_Accio Doctor!_"


	2. Demented

**Here's the next chapter! This mystery should be resolved in a little less time than Light and Changes.  
I'm not sure about the pace in some of this chapter, it might seem a little rushed sometimes. Sorry about that; I'll try and fix it for later chapters.  
Also, Remus might not be the most in-character, he's quite difficult to write. Hopefully you'll still like him though.**

**Enjoy!**

"Paris, France," the Doctor span a dial on the TARDIS, grinning, hopping back a few steps.

Amy and Rory looked at him, both sceptical, doubting he'd land successfully. Hurt by their distrust, he made a move to say something.

Light flared suddenly. The redhead and her husband made a move towards the Time Lord, caught by surprise. The Doctor reached out, flailing as the light swirled around him. Unused to the energy's type, the TARDIS could do nothing against it, and the Doctor was dragged away-

To driving rain. The Time Lord opened his eyes, still standing, peering into the face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Hello again," the Time Lord said, grinning despite his abrupt, unwilling departure, "Do you know why I'm here."

"We summoned you," the headmaster replied simply, "My apologies for dragging you away, but it was necessary."

"Necessary?" the Doctor frowned, "Hang on, forget that for a moment. Did you say you summoned me?"

The headmaster nodded.

"Oh no," the Doctor rolled his eyes, "Please tell me you didn't go 'Accio Doctor'? There's more than just one of me, you know. Could've ended up with a guy and a scarf. Or pest and umbrella. Or ego and no fashion sense," he shuddered, "Next time, try 'Accio guy-with-cool-bow-tie', actually, don't do that. Could apply to Kazran Sardick. Hang on, do you know Kazran?" the Doctor peered closer to Dumbledore, "You look alike. Nah, never mind. So, why am I here?"

Dumbledore gestured silently, in direct contrast to the Doctor's babbling. He pointed to the Dementor's abandoned cloak.

Shuffling, the Doctor turned, eyes widening as he saw what was beneath it. A skeleton; bleached white bones, just bones, no flesh, in the driving rain.

The Time Lord tensed.

"This…is why you called me," the Doctor's voice had dropped from its previous, perky tones. He continued to stare at the bones and the Dementor's cloak.

"I am afraid so," Dumbledore spoke, pain in his eyes, "Her name is Rowena; for that is the name of the only missing student. We do not know what brought her to this state, nor do we know what has happened to the Dementor," the headmaster felt a kind of pity for the fiend, though he, for once, struggled to show it.

"The same thing," the Doctor replied instantly, "It was the same thing, though," he paused again, frowning at the black, "Maybe not at the same time."

The teachers frowned at him. It seemed for a moment that they were about to say more, but a telltale wave of depression washed over them. Several Prefects backed away, letting the teachers move forwards.

Garbed in deepest sable, a Dementor glided down for them, scabbed hands reaching out from beneath the deep robe. A pronounced hissing came from it, catching the Doctor's attention, but there was no chance to do anything more.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" the shout came up from several of the teachers. Only one or two produced a corporeal animal; but the rest created a wall of shining, blinding white light, a shield against the foul creature.

"Why are they attacking?" the Doctor muttered to himself, loud enough so that Dumbledore could just hear him, "They never came this close in the books."

Dumbledore frowned, unable to answer.

Slowly, reluctantly, the Dementor was forced away.

O

Remus Lupin slowly walked around a shaking wardrobe, frowning, humming to himself. Occasionally he flicked his wand, making tallies in the air as if using a checklist.

Several minutes through his pacing, the Doctor entered the staff room; the teacher didn't react, continuing walking around the cupboard.

"Hi Moony," the Doctor grinned, walking up to the teacher, walking behind him as he circled the wardrobe

"Doctor," Lupin nodded, after a silent moment. An expression of disquiet passed over his face

"Oh, I'm not supposed to know you're called that, am I?" the Doctor rolled his eyes, "You know, I keep doing that. Anyway, so you've got a Boggart in here?"

"Yes. It's for the lesson," Lupin nodded.

"I know," the Doctor shrugged, "By the way, there's a girl in that class, Hermione, a real bright spark. Looks an awful lot like Emma Watson. You might want to be careful of her."

"Why?" the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher frowned, before nodding, "Ah, I see. She might see that I'm a-"

"Exactly," the Doctor nodded. "I guess you know about Sirius too?"

"Sirius Black," Lupin pronounced the name easily, familiarly, "He's escaped from Azkaban."

"Pad-foot," the Doctor grinned, before wincing, "Not supposed to know that either, am I?"

Shrugging, the Doctor rapped once on the wardrobe, grinning as the Boggart inside knocked back. Then, with another, almost-childlike, grin, he ran over to a teapot, which rested gently on a table.

"A cup of tea, Doctor?" Lupin offered, absently levitating the teapot

"I've heard that before," the Time Lord muttered. "Tea's good though. Saved me on Christmas once, as well as a Satsuma. Have we got any Satsuma's? Oh well, at least you're not a Dalek," he paused mid-rant, "Are you? Nah, probably not. And yeah, ok. I like tea."

Frowning at the Doctor's bizarre monologue, Lupin poured two cups of tea with his wand, most of his attention still on examining the Boggart-holding wardrobe. He frowned, leaning forwards to tap and secure the lock with his wand. As the tip of the implement touched it, the door was flung open.

The Boggart quickly rolled out, taking the form of a minituare moon, just over Lupin. Tense, the teacher took a few steps away from it, an automatic reaction to the lunar light.

Sensing a need, the Doctor strolled, quite calmly, past Remus. The Time Lord stood still, facing the Boggart; the moon. It hesitated, indecisive, a split second before cycling through several forms, whole worlds of shapes, sizes and colours. A statue, a shadow, a Dalek, a Cyber-man, a shadow, a huge spider, a Sun, a Time Lord, a shadow-

"_Riddikulus_!" Lupin shouted, jabbing his wand at the creature.

The shadow, the shape it was momentarily in, dripped like treacle, turning to a bright, polka-dotted substance. Several charms later, and it was forced back, and locked, in the wardrobe.

"I have never seen anything quite like that," Lupin commented, slightly out of breath

"Oh, I have," the Doctor shrugged, "A lot of times. I've seen things that would give even that," he gestured towards the wardrobe, "Nightmares."

"Remarkable," the teacher responded simply.

"I try," the Time Lord grinned, turning to leave, tea in hand.

O

"_Expecto Patronum_!" Flitwick squeaked the incantation, holding a wall of light up against a Dementor.

Grey, scabbed hands tried to reach into the light; the Patronus flickered somewhat, but held firm. The spell was little more than a barrier, a swirl of white light, yet it proved enough to ward off the darkness of the Dementor.

Corpse-like flesh stared from beneath the hood, desperate, flailing against the shield. Flitwick chanted the spell once more, sending an extra jolt of energy to the Patronus, more energy to keep the Dementor distracted, satiated.

Still, the black cloaked fiend forced through the light, urgent, rushed, mad. Hands just piercing the thin, outer fringes of the Patronus. Casting a worried look up, Flitwick dredged up happier memories, throwing the spell once more.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Snape's voice called across the grounds, a silver doe bounding along the grass. It ran towards the Dementor, forcing it back, taking the strain of Flitwick's flickering barrier.

With a few more bounds, the Dementor was forced out of the grounds.

And yet, still, many of the numerous guards of Azkaban were entering and re-entering the grounds. Why?

O

Hermione, Ron and Harry were gathered excitedly in the corner of the snowy courtyard. Dozens of other students, Third Year and up, were milling around elsewhere, buzzing. Only Harry seemed somewhat dejected.

"Oh, it can't be all that bad Harry," Hermione said, trying to cheer him up, "Professor McGonagall will understand."

"Nah, she won't," Ron shook his head, chewing on a sweet

"Ron!" Hermione elbowed the redhead. "She'll understand why the Dursley's didn't sign the form."

"Yeah, but I still won't be allowed to go to Hogsmeade," Harry mumbled, "Nah, don't worry. You go, I'll wait for you."

"You're sure, Harry? I don't mind staying," Hermione's voice trailed off

Harry looked up, surprised at the offer; but he saw the anticipation in her eyes.

"I'm fine," the black haired boy nodded, "Enjoy Hogsmeade."

"We'll bring you back something," Ron supplied.

Harry grinned.

More snow fell, a light dusting of the stone of the walls, statues, and the students. White fell, not unlike a Patronus, yet it had no effect at all on the Dementors gliding, quite some distance away from Hogwarts castle.

"Will all students, please return to their Common Rooms!" Professor McGonagall's voice sounded, amplified over the mutters of the waiting crowds; "All students, return to your Common Rooms."

A ripple of confused dismay passed over the group, yet the teacher was not forthcoming with answers.

Shooting a mildly hopeful look at Harry, Hermione obeyed; followed soon by her two friends.

O

Malfoy walked slowly to the Dungeons. Slytherin Common Rooms. Which was a pain; he was looking forward to Hogsmeade, his father had signed the form with gusto, or at least what passed for gusto with Lucius. The trips were highly recommended it seemed; naturally Draco wanted to go there.

He had little regard for Hogwarts rules, come to think of it.

On that note, the blonde stopped, momentarily hesitant, before turning, making his way back through the crowd. Many of the Slytherin students parted as he walked; and if they didn't Quidditch supporters and players made them. After all, his father has bought Nimbus 2001 broomsticks the previous year; that afford him a certain reputation among the players.

Hogsmeade was worth a visit; besides, was the danger likely to be at all major? This was a school, and it often overreacted.

He soon found his way out from within the castle; to a courtyard, quite near the dungeons. Dusting himself down, he started on his way. He could find his way to Hogsmeade, and a small visit would be worth it. Grinning in anticipation, making it through the pouring rain, it wasn't far until Draco reached the wall.

Now to get out. That shouldn't be hard-

A dark cloak brushed the back of his neck. Malfoy span around at the sudden sensation; backing right up against the wall as a hooded Dementor glared.

Silence. The black figure was unseen; just the torn, ragged cloth around it gave any clue it was there, that it watched. In the space of one, agonizingly slow, frosted breath, it drew closer.

No depression: Draco noticed that quickly, but didn't think on its significance.

Malfoy's eyes stared wildly, afraid of moving, the reaper-like figure watching. The misty air did nothing to conceal the blackness of the Dementor; it only accentuated the sheer lack of brightness.

With a sudden pang of fear, Draco realized that the hood was pulled backs lightly. Not a lot, but just enough to peer beneath it. He could see straight through, to emptiness.

Void. Dark.

Was…was there anything even in that ragged cloak?

The Dementor glared, lifting one, shadowy arm of its cloak, and in one beat of Draco's rocketing heart, moving it for the boy's throat. An instant of searing pain-

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Remus Lupin's voice carried through the chill air.

The white of the shield made the Dementor recoil, lifting a tattered arm of its veil in a futile attempt to ward it away. Faced with such blinding light, the gloom of the Dementor fled.

"I am quite sure McGonagall said to return to your Common Room," Lupin said lightly, "Now, go on. I know I-"

He stopped, for the first time focusing on Draco. He'd been injured by the touch of the Dementor, it seemed; a deep cut was gouged in the flesh around his neck, sterilized, neat, but so deep. Blood was starting to form around its edges.

The Slytherin gave no sign he'd heard Lupin, merely moaning incoherently, pale, shaking.

"Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," Lupin murmured, lifting Draco up onto his shoulders.

O

"Is it truly wise to trust this…man?" Snape sneered.

He stood, with several other teachers and the Doctor, in the grounds of Hogwarts. Dumbledore, Lupin, McGonagall and Snape formed a ring around the Doctor, who'd just outlined a plan.

"I don't see a choice," the Doctor shrugged, in response to Snape's query about his plan, "When I call the TARDIS here, Amy and Rory will be an extra pair of hands, but I can't manage that just yet, and I really don't want to wait for answer. Things are boring in the right order, so why things always seem to be going that way, is beyond me."

"You propose to," McGonagall's voice quavered, "_Call _a Dementor?"

The Doctor grinned.

"_Speak_ to it?" the teacher repeated, disbelieving. The Time Lord still grinned, nodding

"Talk solves most problems. Plus TARDIS translators," he tapped the side of his head, "Will help."

A few seconds passed. Rain fell down, pushed away by some shield a teacher had put up. Still, the dreariness, called by the presence of Dementors, presided.

Silently, Albus Dumbledore called his phoenix Patronus to his side. The comforting white light, as the magical bird circled above them, seemed to restore voice to the teachers.

"Unorthodox," Lupin began, "And I like it for that. But are you sure it will work?"

"Will anything work?" the Doctor shrugged

"True," the teacher said, light-hearted.

A few more silent seconds; Dumbledore's Patronus pulsed white light, once again causing conversation.

"I am curious," the headmaster spoke, "As to what gave you this idea."

"I like to talk," the Time Lord shrugged, "You probably noticed. Oh, and I heard the Dementor hissing when you summoned me. They don't hiss to your ears; the TARDIS is translating for me. _And_," the Doctor seemed to be made breathless from just that list, "Malfoy got wounded by a Dementor: that should not happen. So something's wrong with them."

Dumbledore creased his brow, nodding, slowly agreeing with the time Lord. Snape sneered as he watched, yet he too nodded, perhaps genuinely supportive, perhaps reluctant to disagree. Yet nonetheless, he agreed.

"Very well," McGonagall relented, "But I insist we have Patronuses ready."

With a quick flick of her wand, both she and Snape called animals of light: hers was a bespectacled cat, while Snape's was a doe.

The silver creatures circled the group once, before following Dumbledore's phoenix to a spot behind the Doctor, closer to the castle. The teachers too followed, leaving the Doctor alone.

The Time Lord stepped forwards, stepping out from the magical barrier and into the driving rain. Already a Dementor was approaching; possibly coming because it had seen the group of senior teachers. Whatever the cause, it was here.

"Hello!" the Doctor prolonged the call, waving, quickly catch the fiend's attention. The deep sable hood turned, grey, scabbed hands visible by its sides as the faceless cloak drew ever closer.

The Dementor's aura almost made the Doctor stumble; he was no stranger to sadness, yet he did not seek it out. Now all those tragedies in his past weighed on his mind. He could hear Rose crying, Donna sobbing, whole crowds of voices, screams and cries in his head.

He bore it. And the Dementor's hissing resolved into stretched, hoarse, phantom-like speech.

"You will listen to us."

The Doctor sensed it was meant to be a question, and yet the fiend in front of him seemed incapable of asking anything.

"I do," the Doctor played scenarios in his mind, play-acting to get through it. As if confronting all his fears, every cause of the sadness in his mind, he spoke boldly, resolute. "You wanted to talk?"

"Beware…us," the last word was contorted, prolonged into an indistinct, smoky noise

"I figured that," the Doctor replied

"You do not listen. _Us_. We have not changed. A foe has risen, it rules us: possesses us." The Dementor's voice was without a doubt unnatural. It was unused to speaking in this manner; while they sometimes contacted wizards, it was in a different way. Few understood this language.

"Something's controlling some of you?" the Doctor guessed.

"Us," the Dementor hissed. Its dark hood seemed to nod.

"What?" the Doctor spoke, questioning, urgent.

The Dementor hissed; just a noise this time, no speech concealed within. They did not know.


	3. Fear

**Here's the next chapter.  
Looks like a few people have suspicions. I was actually going to reveal the monsters last chapter, but there were a couple of other bits I wanted to include, and that made it a bit too long. So instead, I cut a couple of bits out, put them in this chapter instead, and delayed the revelation. Oh well.  
Anyway, enjoy! **

Hogwarts staff room. The teachers were sitting down, sipping tea in Lupin's and the Doctor's case. The rest were quiet, not from a lack of anything to talk about, but a lack of anything to do about it.

Out the window, Dementors could be seen, flying dangerously close to the castle. A few talented prefects had been taught the Patronus charm, and were now engaged in, with difficulty, repelling the fiends. Some teachers helped; only Snape, Dumbledore, Lupin, McGonagall and Hagrid did not, and they were all in the staff room.

"You know what I think?" the Doctor began

"Must we?" Snape sighed, exasperated, "Do you know what's happening?" the potions master said it more like an accusation than a question

"No," the Time Lord paused, "Well, yes. Well, no again. Kind of. I've got an idea, I just hope I'm wrong," his voice cracked a little, "Which means I'm probably not."

"What would you advise?" Dumbledore asked politely

"Ah, yes, that," the Doctor stood up, pacing. "First," he counted on his fingers, "Do _not _leave the castle. Third," he frowned, looking at his fingers, "No, second, be careful of the Dementors, we're missing something. And third."

At that, he paused, looking around, haunted, contemplative.

"Yes?" Remus prompted.

The Doctor was still silent, looking out the window into the driving rain, a few moments passing before he spoke again: "Stay out of the shadows."

O

As the class trickled into Potions, the first thing they noticed was the light. The room was much brighter than the normal, dingy torches; the room was now illuminated by several spheres, hovering midair and emitting a glow.

Harry, Ron, Hermione Draco, Crabbe and Goyle trekked into one row, cauldrons lined up in front of them. They fell into silence as Snape strode up to the centre of class.

"Due to…unforeseen circumstances, you have all missed our last lesson. That does not mean things will be easy: I fully expect each and every one of you to catch up," the pale skinned man surveyed the class, "This lesson, we will be creating a shrinking solution. You will find the instructions in your books. You have one hour. Begin."

Snape finished his command coldly, sitting down, turning over an hour glass with magic. He said nothing of the new illumination, which banished all shadows from the dungeon, yet he seemed somehow irritated by it.

The students queued, collecting the ingredients they needed. Harry arranged the ones he'd collected on a table near his cauldron, preparing them neatly, as specified. Upon looking up, he saw Hermione had already started.

"Sir," Draco drawled, "I'll need some help skinning this shrivel-fig, my neck…" he trailed off, his pitiful excuse left unfinished.

"Potter," Snape stared over his hooked nose at the Boy Who Lived, "You can help."

The teacher looked down again, indifferent.

Smarting at the injustice of it, Harry moved over to Malfoy's table, taking the shrivel-fig and beginning to quickly skin it.

"You really fainted on the train, huh Potter?" Draco whispered, jeering

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry muttered, "Your neck doesn't stop you using your hands."

"Yeah, well," Draco shrugged, "I wanted to talk to you."

Harry looked up, surprised; "Yeah? About what?"

"The Dementor on the train, did you really-"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry repeated

"Don't be like that," the Slytherin rolled his eyes, "Here, look," he lifted his chin, exposing his pale neck to the air. A thick, jagged scar ran across the flesh, still vivid even after Madam Pomfrey's magical healing; "A Dementor did that to me."

Harry's eyes widened, appalled by the harm.

"Those things creep me out," Malfoy muttered, "Don't think you're the only one."

O

The Doctor had created a long, elaborate, chaotic contraption out of string, wire, and a TARDIS key, in Dumbledore's Office. With a grin, he pointed the sonic screwdriver at it.

A very, very faint echo of the TARDIS groaning sounded once, distant, muffled. Still, it was definitely there. A telltale sign; it was working. Eventually, the TARDIS would be called here, with Amy and Rory.

"Hello," he spoke into a mobile phone, bubbling, "Amy?"

"Doctor?" her surprised voice came from the other end, "What happened? Where did you go? What was that light? Did the fashion agency finally get you?"

The Doctor winced, holding the phone a few centimetres from his ear as the Scottish redhead babbled on

"No, no, nothing like that," he interrupted after a few moments, before frowning, "What do you mean, fashion agency?"

"Bow tie," Amy said it like a plea, "Really? Still?"

"Bow ties are cool," the Doctor protested.

"Yeah, right," she wasn't convinced, "So where are you?"

"Hogwarts," the Doctor grinned.

"Again?" Amy sighed, despairingly, "What's happened now?"

"You know, I'm not totally sure," the Doctor frowned, "But I'm suspicious. I'm calling you here, but while I do, that, I need you to run a check on something in the TARDIS database. All inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest."

O

Remus Lupin was sat in his office, restful. It was a full moon; he wanted to hold back from any exertions, so he'd be more able to resist, with the aid of Snape's potion, his werewolf side. He didn't want to lose control.

A fish tank rested on a podium, just opposite him. Saucer-like eyes stared out of it.

The wide glare made Lupin shiver; it made him think. The eyes watched, unblinking.

He felt guilty, no use denying it. He was a werewolf; every month he'd lose control of himself, become a monster, and if it wasn't for the complex potion he took every full moon, he'd do such irreparable harm to Hogwarts. Did he have the right to keep that from the students?

He had to. If he didn't, no doubt they'd be protests. Yet, still, he felt guilty about it.

"Hello again," the Doctor's head popped out from just above the fish tank. The brown haired man paused for a moment, frowning, looking down into the misted tank. "hello there too," he crooned at the creature

"Hello Doctor," Remus sighed

"Oh, hello again," the Doctor bounded up, skipping over to the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "You look upset."

"Do I?" Remus made a stab at dry humour, before giving up, "I don't like keeping secrets, ironically. When Lily and James needed a Secret-Keeper, there's a reason I wasn't considered. I couldn't take it," Lupin gave a mildly bitter chuckle, "Though I would have done better than Sirius."

"Don't bet on it," the Doctor replied

"Was that meant to be a compliment?" Lupin frowned at the Time Lord

"Kind of, yeah," the Doctor shrugged, "Is it really that easy to believe Sirius betrayed you?"

"No, it's not," Lupin's face tensed for a moment, a wolfish pang passing through him. It was close to sunset. "I thought I knew him; evidently not."

"Everyone has secrets," the Doctor said after a few seconds, catching Lupin momentarily off-guard at the subject return, "Believe me on that much. I'm not human; and I _really _shouldn't be saying this either. Well, it's not the worst thing, if I'm right. Anyway, don't forget Remus, no one's free of secrets."

"Well, it does explain some things," those were the werewolf's only response to the Doctor's revelation. He didn't seem at all fazed.

The Time Lord nodded, smiling at the teacher. Remus smiled back.

O

The Doctor sat opposite Dumbledore, watching the faint outline of the TARDIS grow, very gradually, stronger, more pronounced. It would still be quite some time before it successfully landed in the magic-rich environment of Hogwarts.

"The students are not happy," Dumbledore sighed, "Many of them were looking forward to Hogsmeade; that has been taken from them."  
"No choice," the Doctor slumped, upset with himself as much as anything, "There really wasn't. Hopefully I'm wrong, for once, and we can all go back to boring old normal, but if I'm not, we really shouldn't risk it."

"It will not be long until another attempts to flee, as Draco did. I fear we may not save this one." Dumbledore stroked his beard gently.

The helplessness had paralyzed the Doctor; the Time Lord struggled against unseen restraints from his chair, saddened by the sanctions he had been forced to make.

"It's this or run," the Doctor murmured, "I like running."

Imprisonment was not a good thing; yet that's what he was doing. At least, that's what it felt like. Despite his defence of the action, he wasn't entirely happy about it.

Keep all students in Hogwarts: no trips to Hogsmeade, nothing.

For once, he found himself hoping that he was mistaken. If the creature, the race, 'possessing' the Dementors wasn't who he thought they were, then things would be a whole lot safer.

Ring.

The Doctor blinked suddenly, flicking a mobile phone out from his pocket; one powered by the same means as his adapted screwdriver, by the magic in the air. Grinning tensely, he spoke a greeting into it.

"Doctor?" Amy's voice carried through it, "Please tell me you can narrow it down. A _lot _of things live in the Forest."

"Just read through from the end," the Doctor frowned, "No, wait," he lifted his screwdriver and buzzed it once, "There, now try the highlighted list."

"There is no highlighted list," Amy replied, exasperated

"Huh? Oh, wait a few seconds," the Doctor hummed to himself

"Still nothing," Amy muttered

"Not again," the Doctor sighed, "Signal must've been caught in the ketchup. Squirt some out."

"What." Amy stated, not even bothering to make it sound like a question.

"It's the ketchup!" the Doctor repeated, "Just push a little out of the dispenser, then read the highlighted list."

"Alright, Rory!" there was a moment of silence of Amy's end, before the clank of metal. A beep.

"Was that…Rory?" the Doctor frowned, "Why's he clanking? Is he in that Roman armour again?"

A moment of silence.

"Anyway," Amy coughed, "The list."

The Doctor frowned, listening as the redhead spoke. Sometimes he nodded, smiling, while other times he mumbled to himself, brow creased.

"That's all then?" the Doctor said, after a few minutes

"Yeah," Amy answered from within the TARDIS. "Doctor, is that good or bad?"

"Oh, it's good," the Doctor paused, "Very, very good." His voice wasn't convincing.

The Time Lord frowned, one hand holding up the phone, while the other played with his sonic screwdriver, twirling it between his fingers.

Quietly breathing, sadness in his eyes, he pointed it at the translucent TARDIS, slowly being drawn to Hogwarts. Click. Buzz. A muted glimmer of green; a ripple passed through the box.

"Doctor?" Amy's voice sounded through the phone, as the TARDIS grew gradually more transparent, "What was that? The whole place just shook."

"Don't worry about it," the Doctor said, falsely cheerful, "A little turbulence; we get it a lot, didn't you notice? Might take you a little longer to get here though."

He disconnected the call quickly, pocketing the phone and the screwdriver. At least, now they'd be safe. Well, safer.

O

"I know who they are."

Hogwarts staff room once again. The senior teachers, as before, were sitting, the Doctor being the only one standing, speaking. Dumbledore suffered one Dementor to be permitted in the ground; it stood alone in the corner of the room, mottled flesh peering from behind its black cloak.

"The creatures who killed Rowena and who devour the Dementors, wearing the cloaks: they look like Dementors still, but they're not."

The dark fiend in the corner stared out, grey hand curling, tensing. It seemed as if its rags were floating in water; lightly staying up in the air, eerie, unnatural. The Dementor silently listened.

"Draco said he saw it; when one attacked him. Nothing actually in the cloak. Well, it would look like nothing. It was just shadow."

A second of silence. The teachers watched, taking in the Doctor's explanations. Subconsciously, their wands tended towards the Dementor, an instinctive fear of the blackness. It may or may not have noticed; but it did not react.

"They live in the Forest. Well, technically they live in all forests, but yours too. Only something's stirred them; my guess is the Dementors. They're, you're," he nodded towards the fiend, "Causing clouds, blocking the sunlight. They don't like the light. Too late to do anything about that now of course, anyway, they're hungry. They're always hungry."

The Dementor tensed upon receiving some of the blame; as if ready to leap forwards, take the Doctor in a fit of rage. But that fit soon passed; unnoticed. The robe concealed any and all emotion the emaciated beast within felt.

"Vashta-Nerada," the Doctor spoke the words, wincing as if they were upon him as he said their name.

"Shadows; the piranhas of the air, some people call them. Any shadow, any shadow at all, and they could be in it, watching, waiting. They eat meat. Humans and Dementor. They devour."

The Time Lord lifted his arms a little away, displaying helplessness, a semi-reluctance to divulge the information. It felt useless to be saying it.

"And…what would you advise we do?" Dumbledore was the first to speak, the first to recover from the Doctor's grim explanation.

"I don't know," the Time Lord replied helplessly.


	4. Deal With the Devil

**This story might be a little different to the others;as you can see, big mystery solved already. An advanced warning; this one's probably going to turn out more psychological than anything else.  
A reason for that will be made clear at the end of the chapter. Hopefully. Not a twist as such, just an idea.  
Anyway, enjoy! **

Darkness. A black cloak, seemingly lifted from the ground by nothing but air. Shadow. It hurtled forwards; at another black veil, one wrapped around grey, cadaverous flesh.

The Dementor screeched a silent, agonized cry, hand vanishing as its eyeless face watched, stared. Its mouth opened, hood flown back by the action.

The cloak of shadow recoiled, slowing momentarily, before it simply fell to the grassy floor.

No illumination. It was night.

Grey, mottled flesh faded, the sand under the rising tide. One second. Its cloak also descended to the floor, consumed by shadow-

A ring of darkened robes drew inwards; within each was a body, Dementors with their lifeless, gaunt frames, sucking all joy from the world around them. Grass wilted in their presence, and droplets of water became ice. Gliding, leaving trails of frost in their wake, the wraiths descended in, on the thick circle of shadow, black as the deepest night, cast by nothing visible.

Sable touching sable. The ultimate darkness against true blackness: shadow on shadow. The ring of Dementors survived; maws wide and consuming the souls of the air and shadow.

The Dementors glided away. The patch of shadow dissolved; tendrils of gloom wound their way to the Forbidden Forest, yet it was smaller, less vivid. Soulless.

O

Care of Magical Creatures had become a distinctly less interesting lesson, Harry reflected. As the teachers had grown increasingly reluctant to venture so much as one step outside the door, going so far as to use summoning charms to collect things just a metre away, the lessons took place in the Great Hall; cleared to make room for the creatures. While it made meals more interesting, to have a row of cages along each wall, the lessons suffered.

However, this lesson looked like it would be an exception. Hagrid had tempted a creature out from the Forbidden Forest; it seemed like a bizarre blend of a horse and an eagle, with piercing orange eyes.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid shouted, relishing the word while catching the class's attention, "Lovely creatures, really. This is Buckbeak"

Muffled chortles came from the Slytherin side of the Hall. In all fairness, Harry found himself somewhat disagreeing with Hagrid's assessment; the creature's feathers bristled, and it was pacing, unused to being held inside a building.

Its bird claws scraped at the stone; it leered at the worm-like beings in cages by the walls, its eyes glared at the stone walls, and eagle wings twitched, itching to leave and re-enter the open air.

"Hippogriffs, well, they're proud things," the giant continued, oblivious to the titters in the crowds, "Don't ever insult one, it might just be the last thing you do."

Hagrid tossed a lifeless ferret up in the air, patting the hippogriff on the back of its neck rather roughly as it caught the creature in its beak.

"Always wait for them to make the first move. Polite, see? And then, when they bow, you approach. Any volunteers?"

Unsurprisingly, no one moved forwards. In fact, all of them took a long step back, especially the Slytherins; except for Harry.

"Wonderful," Hagrid beamed, scooping up Harry with his arms before the black haired boy realized what had happened. "Now then, bow Harry."

Harry's eyes darted around madly, his feet unwittingly dragging him forwards. Tentatively, he bent his knees, bending forwards in a cautious bow. He made sure to keep peering up at the creature. A tense few seconds ticked past. Buckbeak tilted its head sideways; but did not bow back.

"Back away Harry," Hagrid muttered, whispering urgently, "back away."

With a glance up at the giant's face, the Boy Who Lived obeyed, moving backwards a couple of steps, panting and shrinking away from Buckbeak's indifferent, piercing golden eyes.

Then, semi-reluctant, the Hippogriff bents its front legs, nodding its eagle head in acceptance.

"Wonderful!" Hagrid grinned, "I think he'll let you ride him now."  
"What? Huh-" Harry began, eyes again darting. He hadn't bargained for this.

Struggling slightly, he was lifted up by Hagrid, and dumped on the back of Buckbeak. The hippogriff reared, still indoors. Harry's eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. Tense, he flung his arms around the grey hippogriff's midriff, feeling it start to gallop forwards.

With a cry, Harry Potter was taken out of the Great Hall, at a breakneck speed atop Buckbeak.

Seconds later, the hippogriff broke out through the front door of Hogwarts, chipping the stone gateway with his wings, stretching them out. The instant it inhaled the fresh air, it leapt up, eagle wings wide, soaring through the air, soaring.

Harry's eyelids cracked open, peering nervously out. Past the hippogriff's feathers and fur, he could see the ground, gradually growing further away. Buckbeak continued to fly.

It wasn't like Quidditch; he could deal with flight then, because at least then he had some control. Here, he was subject to the whims of the creature, the sheer, uncontrollable speed.

Tentatively, he peered down at the grass. He was…very high. Very high.

Soon, the hippogriff was soaring over the Great Lake: Harry slowly released Buckbeak, still gripping it with his legs, but freeing his arms, holding them up to the air. Grinning, the black haired boy whooped.

Buckbeak circled over the water, before automatically homing in on its dwelling. The Forbidden Forest. Harry Potter started to urge the hippogriff once he realized where they were headed, tried to resist its automatic instinct. They weren't supposed to go to the Forest under normal circumstances; and with Dementors, and the fear that even teachers showed at leaving the castle...

An icy grip fastened over his heart.

He could feel the presence of Dementors; their distant effect. Cold.

Buckbeak was heading for a clearing; and in that clearing, there was a black cloak. He could see no flesh beneath it from this distance; strangely, he did not feel the aura of depression.

The darkness turned; empty hood staring, shadow beneath the robe seeming to ripple.

The robe looked directly at Harry, void below the hood glaring.

And then real ice seized his heart. He could feel the grip of a Dementor run through him, a sudden chill. The hippogriff bucked, throwing the Boy Who Lived away, falling onto the Forest's floor. And he glimpsed black robes flow past.

A Dementor, grey flesh peering from beneath the veil, glided straight for the shadowy other, joined by another, and another. A whole swarm of Dementors, all moving straight for the central cloak.

Harry heard a woman's scream.

_Not Harry!_

O

"Harry's in the Forest!" Hagrid tumbled through the door into Dumbledore's Office, making the Time Lord and headmaster look up, surprised.

"What?" Dumbledore exhaled the word, something frightening lurking on the borders of his voice

"Dumbledore, I'm sorry sir, I jus'- He was riding Buckbeak, jus' flew out an' into the Forest." Hagrid winced, guilty.

"Where did he go?" the Doctor turned to face the giant full-on, eyes burning

"I- I didn't see," Hagrid panted, "Sorry sir."

"Oh, don't be sorry," the Doctor ran past, patting Hagrid on the back, "Just hope."

With a shrug, the Time Lord sprinted out of the Office.

"Sir?" Hagrid tilted his head, frowning at Dumbledore.

"He appears to have a plan," the headmaster conceded, "However partial."

Albus Dumbledore waited half a minute more, nodding thanks to Hagrid, before disapparating.

O

The borders of the Forbidden Forest were wreathed in darkness. Regardless of the daylight, the presence of Dementors swarming over the area brought clouds and fog. They weren't allowed here technically, yet the threat of the Vashta-Nerada prevented any teachers from dispelling them. Their presence hung in the air like a storm.

The Doctor paused by the edge of the Forest, weaving past shadows of branches, eyes constantly darting to the floor to see how many shadows he or the trees had.

One step forwards. His foot brushed a shadow. With a melodramatic cry, he took a step back.

Two shadows.

The Doctor blinked, looking back down at his feet.

His assessment was definitely correct. Two shadows were cast onto the Forest floor; both from his own body.

Crack.

The Time Lord's gaze was wrenched upwards, to see Albus Dumbledore just appearing.

"Don't move!" the Doctor said suddenly, expression clearly showing worry, "Don't touch any shadows. There's a swarm around here, somewhere."

The headmaster stilled instantly, not fully sure as to what the Doctor meant, yet hearing the urgency in his voice.

"Two shadows," the Doctor nodded downwards, "It's how they hunt. They latch onto prey, waiting: a second shadow. Then they feed."

"I see," Dumbledore frowned, not showing quite the amount of worry the Doctor displayed, yet disquieted.

Then, silently, he raised one arm, extending a hand towards the Doctor, in the manner of a handshake.

Eyes widening in sudden understanding, the Doctor echoed the gesture, lifting his arm and holding the headmaster's hand.

"Geronimo," the Time Lord muttered grimly.

They disapparated with a sharp crack.

Left behind them, a shadowy reflection of the Doctor paused on the Forest floor, contorting itself, confused for a few split seconds. Then it was gone, dissolving into the ambient dark.

O

"Harry!" the Doctor shouted, stumbling over branches and bushes, towards the fainted Boy Who Lived.

The black haired student was lying, eyes closed, still, on a mass of leaves and twigs, hair messed up and glasses cracked and askew. Yet alive; distinctly. He murmured, groaning in unconsciousness.

Nothing was around; they were completely alone. Dumbledore, the Doctor, and Harry.

Working quickly, even professionally, the Doctor placed his hands on Harry's head, and closed his eyes. Behind the Time Lord's eyelids, event upon event flickered; a flash of green, a sudden cry-

"He's fine," the Doctor gasped, recoiling, "Just got a bit too close to a Dementor."

Dumbledore walked over to the kneeling Time Lord, raising and illuminating his wand. The pale blue glow cast eerie, yet thankfully genuine, shadows through the trees.

The headmaster murmured a summoning charm, before handing a small, wrapped package to the Doctor; the Time Lord turned, to take it. Chocolate.

"It will help," Albus spoke softly.

The Doctor nodded, slipping a small square between Harry's lips. The taste brought the boy back to consciousness; he scrambled, trying to sit up, half-expecting a hippogriff or a Dementor to burst into view. Instead he only saw the Doctor's kindly face.

"D-Dementor!" he jerked up, shouting

"Gone, it's gone," the Doctor murmured, trying to be comforting, "You're ok now. Mostly. Well, as ok as you can be in a Forest full of- nah, let's just stick with 'ok'."

"It was strange," Harry murmured, too delirious to focus on the Doctor's speech, "I couldn't see anything inside the cloak…"

"What?" the Doctor came too close to dropping Harry, surprised by the news, "What happened to it?"

"Didn't see," Harry slumped, eyes almost closing. He chewed silently on the chocolate.

"Doctor!" Dumbledore spoke one, warning word.

The Time Lord's neck snapped up; a black cloak was hovering in front of him, two rows of trees away, shadowy veil harbouring a shade. It would have passed for a Dementor, if not for the lack of frost, and the lack of any tangible being.

"Ex-" Dumbledore began a Patronus

"No," the Doctor raised his hand, "Try something brighter. Light, well, it kind of repels them. Distracts them at the very least."

"I see, _Lumos Solem!_" the headmaster pointed his wand at the reaper-like figure.

The trio shielded their eyes, a blinding ball of light, as strong as the Sun, being emitted from Dumbledore's wand. A beam of it rushed towards the Vashta-Nerada infested cloak, causing it to struggle, resisting against unseen chains, before being forced away.

Before the light faded, an icy hand gripped the Doctor's heart. In his arms, Harry shivered, before passing again into haunted sleep. The Time Lord rested the Boy Who Lived on the grass, standing to face, as the light dimmed, a Dementor.

The wraith hovered, forlorn and forbidding, in the trees. It hissed.

"The boy is ours." The words came, wisps like smoke from the soul-stealing maw of the fiend

"No," the Doctor stated simply, internally fighting against the waves of depression.

"We saved him. He is ours," the Dementor hissed its simple logic once more

"No. That's not how things work," the Doctor spoke with the same tones with which he used to defend the Earth: an instant later, he frowned, "Hang on, _you _saved him?"

"We dismissed the possessed that threatened him," the blemished skin beneath the hood moved

The Doctor echoed the Dementor's words, a haunted grin breaking out across his face.

"Of course," he was mumbling as much to himself as anyone else, "The Vashta-Nerada still live. They're sentient; the Dementors would affect them too. Even in large groups. No wonder they haven't taken over the whole of Hogwarts yet, the Dementors keep them away!"

With that, the Doctor looked up. "Could you just accept a 'thank you'?" the Time Lord tilted his head.

The reaper didn't even deign to reply. It glared with eyeless flesh.

"One second," the Doctor gave a hasty, nervous grin, before spinning back to Dumbledore and whispering urgently, "I think I have an idea."

"I will not allow you to give Harry to them," Dumbledore murmured in response

"What? No," the Doctor shook his head, appalled by the suggestion, "If that's your idea of me, then we need to start again. Hello, I'm the Doctor," he extended a hand

"You are a man who would do anything," Dumbledore spoke simply, "I would not even try to predict you."

"Well then," the Doctor nodded, "You definitely know me."

"And your idea?"

"We need their help," the Doctor murmured, "They repel Vashta-Nerada. With them, we might be able to survive in Hogwarts, maybe even allow the students to go to Hogsmeade."

Dumbledore stared at the Doctor, midways incredulous and appalled.

"I was right not to predict you," Dumbledore spoke, only the barest trace of his normal twinkling humour in his voice, "Even with no choice, few wizards willingly partner with the guards of Azkaban."

"Will you let me?" the Doctor whispered urgently.

"If you feel it is best," the headmaster bowed his head, speaking softly. Each word fell like a leaden weight, heavy with possibilities and fear.

"Well then," the Doctor clapped his hands, turning back to the Dementor, attempting to remain jovial despite the cloying presence of the fiend, "We need to talk."

A moment of silence. The darkness glided closer through the trees, amplifying the sense of depression and helplessness.

"Speak," the voice came in a hiss

"Good. Now, you and us, we've got a common foe: the shadows. They're killing Dementors and humans; alone we don't stand a chance, but together," the Doctor formed a cross with a finger from both hands, "Same old story. Two is better than one."

"An alliance?" the Dementor's voice was neutral

"Well, more mutual benefit. But yeah, call it that if you want." The Time Lord shrugged, "What do you say?"

The reaper glared. Beneath it, frosted curls of grass snapped, from tension, strain within the Dementor. The icy grip on the Doctor's hearts grew tighter.

"Give us the boy," it hissed once more

"Oh, back to that again?" the Doctor rolled his eyes, "How about something better? Will you help then?"

The Dementor silently inclined its hooded head.

"Well, you're all attracted to Harry because of everything in his past, right?" the Doctor didn't wait for the wraith to agree, "Here's something better."

The Time Lord stepped forward: "Me. Ten seconds, feed as much as you want," his voice cracked, "Then help."

Silent now, the reaper drew closer, lifting one corpse-like hand, touching the Doctor's face with the clammy flesh.

Darkness rose up behind his eyes; and then tragedy. Floods of scenes. Rose on the beach; her last words. Adric, an old, old friend speaking. The Time War and the Time Lords. Every single agonizing choice he'd been forced to make, repeated over and over and over-

Had it really only been ten seconds?

The Dementor drew away, blackness within it suddenly more intense. "You will have our aid."

The black cloak glided away, vanishing into the trees of the Forbidden Forest.


	5. Consequences

**Hopefully this'll still be in character. Well, I suppose it depends on your interpretations, but anyway,we'll see.  
In any case, enjoy this chapter! **

Lesson time at Hogwarts; the corridor outside Gryffindor Common Rooms.

Sirius Black moved through the halls, stealthy and silent. In one hand he held a knife; not for any threatening purpose, but for practically. A non-magic implement; crude, basic. It would work even within the secure confines of Hogwarts. It would take the life of that little rat.

The escaped prisoner stopped just outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. He glared through unkempt locks, remembering many-a-day in his youth, when he'd waited outside here, unable to remember the password.

Now he honestly didn't have a clue. A perverse part of his mind played out the scenario, half-wondering if that excuse would let him in, for once.

"Hey," he knocked roughly on the frame, "You there. Open up."

"Excuse me?" the portrait retorted, affronted, "Password?"

"No idea. Haven't been here for a while," Sirius spoke gruffly

"Oh my," the Fat Lady blinked, focusing on who stood in front of her, "You're that boy aren't you? Sirius Black."

"Quite a twist, huh?" he muttered bitterly, hammering on the frame, "Let me in!"

The Fat Lady crossed her arms, as resolute as the wall she was a part of. Sirius relented with his thumping, momentarily giving up. Then he roared, slashing across the image with his knife; the Fat Lady in the portrait gave a shrill scream, rushing out the side of the frame.

There was chaos in the adjacent pictures; she didn't stop running, even when she was on a wall with nothing beneath it. She pushed past animals, choirs, and any number of portraits.

"You probably shouldn't have done that," a voice commented.

Sirius span around urgently, suddenly cautious. There wasn't meant to be anyone here; it was lesson time. He didn't want to be seen.

"And you are?" he muttered, gruff as before

"The Doctor," the brown haired man grinned, "Bit of a traveller. Actually, a lot of a traveller; and I notice a lot of things. Too many things, depending on who you ask."

"And?" Sirius made a threatening motion with his knife, despite doubting that he'd use it

"And the lesson's almost over," the Doctor frowned, "Come on, we should talk somewhere more private."  
"About what?" Sirius demanded  
"Peter Pettigrew," the Doctor threw the name back, offhandedly, already walking away.

Spurred on by the mention of that name, Sirius, garbed only in the ripped rags he'd worn since Azkaban, followed the Doctor. They went over moving staircases, occasionally having to jump to catch up with it, and through long, winding corridors. It was an enlightening experience; Sirius recognized them, every now and again, from his time as a Marauder.

Things hadn't changed that much. That stone chip just there; it had been there in his First Year. They never seemed to fix it. And that stain! A black mark in the wall, from one of James's antics.

They stopped by a fountain, in a small area full of overgrown ivy. Not many people came here; it seemed like a great place to talk. Once or twice, Sirius had come here as a dog; there were a few great hiding spots for that form.

"Sirius Black," the Doctor said, relishing the words, "Nice to meet you."

"Why would that be?" Sirius spoke, tone impinged upon by bitterness.

"Oh, you know," the Doctor shrugged, "Popular character, and I just couldn't resist. By the way, I'd be careful if I were you: Remus is going to take the blame, well from Snape at least."

"You mentioned Pettigrew," Black almost spat the word out

"Ah, yes, well," the Doctor flushed somewhat, "That was really just to get your attention. I did need to say something though; keep ya safe."

"Yes?" the prisoner spoke curtly

"Stay out of the shadows."

O

The First Year wandered down, through the courtyard, weaving her way past the patios and grass, and icy patches. The rain poured down.

It had been weeks since she'd so much as seen the Sun. The Dementors' doing; all the others said.

Just thinking of those dark fiends, she shivered. Icy wisps of air curled around her throat, the inexorable, clammy grip. She turned; to see one of the black cloaks. Grey, bony fingers emerged from the sleeves, reaching. She tensed, stifling a sob at the creature's frozen presence.

Dementors sucked all joy from the world around them. At that moment, the fact meant nothing to the First Year: she felt as if she'd never be happy again. She couldn't remember happiness, she couldn't remember any kind of joy, of contentment. Her whole life was just this void.

What was happiness?

Her question was answered; a flicker of light within herself, a last, almost extinguished flame; one resurrected by a whirl of light which ran over her shoulder.

A phoenix; one composed of light, shining white alone. It circled her, wings spread wide, and sending off sparks of hope rather than fire; the Dementor shied away from it. Then it opened its beak; a silent caw, the fabric of reality around it rippling somehow, unadulterated bliss emanating from the phoenix.

Ragged cloak whirling chaotically, the Dementor was forced away.

"What is your name, child?" Albus Dumbledore walked up behind the girl; she bit back a gasp at his sudden presence. In his voice, she could hear his normal kind, comforting, melodic tones: yet they sounded more like a façade. An odd, harsher edge lined the headmaster's voice.

"L-Lucy," she shivered, more from the memory of the fiend, than from the chill

"Lucy," Dumbledore nodded, "Please accept all the apologies I am able to give."

O

"It is enough," Dumbledore spoke softly.

They were in his Office once again; the outline of the TARDIS was mildly tangible now. None of them touched it; nervous, but, despite the fact they could easily see through it, it appeared capable of holding weight.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk; Fawkes on the side of his chair, crooning softly. The phoenix softly hopped up, and fluttered deeper into the recesses of the Office, leaving the Time Lord and headmaster alone.

"Albus?" the Doctor tilted his head, frowning

"The Dementors," Dumbledore closed his eyes upon saying the word, "I have made no secret of my respect for you, Doctor, and yet I am troubled greatly by your most recent plan."

"I know," the Doctor sighed to himself, "I'm sorry about it, but they're the only thing in the universe that I know of, which is an awful lot, which we have easy access to, and could repel Vashta-Nerada. I'm sorry-"

"You are not," Dumbledore stated simply, spreading his hands, "When I was informed of the Ministry's intent, I gave my vow to Hogwarts and myself that no Dementor would be permitted within Hogwarts School. Under your instruction, I have broken that promise. It was my hope that the benefits would outweigh the harm: I see now it is not so."

"Albus," the Doctor babbled as the headmaster drew breath, "I really am sorry, but there's no choice. If I could do something else, I would: but there's no option. Without the Dementors, more Vashta-Nerada would be in Hogwarts: what happened to Rowena would be multiplied a thousand times. Chances are a lot of students would have died."

"There are worse things than death," Dumbledore did not give the sense of any interruption, yet his tone merited no break, "The kiss of a Dementor is one such thing. Their presence is another."

What happens when an irresistible force meets an unmovable object?

The age-old riddle appeared to have been realized in the Office. The Doctor in all his hope, sat near the harsh reality and feeling of Dumbledore. The Time Lord was determined to see good: the headmaster knew there was none to be found.

"You never met the Tersurons," the Time Lord murmured, "They were a charming people: peaceful, civilized, artistic. Everything you could want. The nicest race in the universe, but also the most hated: not by choice, they just had an…unorthodox method of communication. People never saw past that."

"Doctor, it is clear to me you do not know the Dementors," if such a word could ever be applied to Dumbledore's voice, he was speaking coldly, "They feed on a person's mind until they are but a soulless husk. I have seen it."

"Exactly," the Doctor took the opportunity to speak, "You know them. I don't: I make a point of not knowing. No preconceptions, at all. How often have wizards spoken to them? They could be regretting everything for all you know."

"They are not," Dumbledore's voice was firm

"How do you know?" the Doctor cried, "You know something: you're just a human. I thought I saw more than that in you; something more profound. You're not, not at all."

"I make no excuses," the headmaster spoke simply.

Throughout the whole exchange, both had been speaking in commonplace, otherwise friendly tones. Their voices were not raised; they did not utter challenges, merely observations.

Until the Doctor's response; provoked by what he perceived to be prejudice on the headmaster's part. The Time Lord had little first-hand knowledge of the Dementors; though he had not given it any thought, it would be like expecting Dumbledore to be opposed to a Dalek from just one glimpse of the metal.

Prejudice? It seemed so, but only to the Time Lord's accepting mind. Dumbledore saw it as a necessity: learned, pointed caution.

"What do you want from me?" the Doctor half-shouted

"I wish for you to leave Hogwarts," Dumbledore's words tumbled over his lips.

When they were said, they were said. It would be false to say Dumbledore didn't regret them; yet he did not take them back. A hard choice.

Lucy's scared, shivering frame was almost visible in his eyes. A Dementor's work. For her, and for every student driven to the threshold of insanity by the wraiths.

"I am able to summon your TARDIS, and your companions," Dumbledore spoke softly now, "And please, Doctor. I am truly sorry."

The Time Lord was shocked, speechless for once in his life.

"It is not you," Dumbledore murmured, pain evident in his closing eyes, "It is what you do. In your own way, you are a Dementor; when people are near you, they do anything."

"I've been told that before," the Doctor's face fell. "And I'm sorry."

"So am I," Dumbledore admitted.

Ashamed moments ticked past. The Doctor kept lifting his head, as if about to speak, but no words ever quite left his lips. Occasionally, his eyes darted sideways, looking at the translucent TARDIS.

"Can I stay for a bit longer?" the Doctor somehow perked up, "Harry's got a Quidditch match soon, and I really want to see at least one."

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore nodded.

O

Gwydion paced towards the Quidditch pitch. He conjured a small flame at the tip of his long wand, warming himself in the rain. Chuckling, the wizard changed the colour of the light; turning it yellow.

He was a Third Year Hufflepuff; going to support his Quidditch team in the match against Gryffindor.

Flicking his wand, a charm he'd practised popped into existence; a great flare in the Hufflepuff colours. Seconds later, it melted into Cedric Diggory, their new Seeker, on his broom, circling around.

Days had been spent practising that. At least they weren't wasted.

A flash of black.

Suddenly jumpy, Gwydion looked behind him; nothing. Well, not much. Just the regular; Hogwarts, and a few stones.

He looked forwards again. Darkness.

He stepped back; somehow a Dementor had made its way in front of him; yet he hadn't felt it. He still couldn't feel it; the ground around it had not yet frozen. It was just…darker?

Gwydion blinked, before looking again. There was no mistake; a shadow seemed to emanate from the black cloak, as thick and tangible as tar.

Dumfounded, panting, he took a few steps back, before turning, about to run.

The shadow circled around him; almost taunting. He stumbled. An instinctive fear had seized him; don't go near the shadow. Don't so much as touch it.

It looked as if the darkness was some liquid form of the Dementor itself. He couldn't bring himself to feel any kind of happiness when such depth of shadow was near; though that may well have been simple fear.

"_Incendio!_" Gwydion hexed blindly, picking the first spell that came to mind.

The Dementor's robe caught fire, soon burning itself down to ash. There was a ripple in the shadow around it; but nothing major. The impenetrable ring on the ground stayed just as forbidding as before. And…it seemed to be closing in. Like a predator might stalk its prey.

Gwydion unleashed the Cedric-spell, a hope he fully expected to fail. Supposedly a beacon for help; people knew he was working on it. Yet, as the shining yellow soared over the sable, the shadow parted.

Breathless, the Third Year followed after it, escaping the circle of black; at one point, he quickly looked around. The ashen cloak of the Dementor was gliding towards him; charred edges and greyed rags, far more threadbare than they were normally.

Gwydion fled over the grassy slopes, away from the shade. He caught sight of a hiding place; part of a stone circle in the grounds of Hogwarts. He ran for it, darting sideways to conceal himself from the Dementor; hiding in the shadow of the stone.

A moment of unutterable agony. A scream. Then nothing.


	6. Leaving

**Bit of a longer chapter this time. I don't think the very last bit was my best in terms of writing style, but hopefully it's still bearable.  
In any case, enjoy!  
(Thanks naturally due to the book itself, especially for some of this bit).**

The Doctor was grinning; even if his relationship with Dumbledore was stretched to the limit, he could put that behind him to revel in the Quidditch. Despite the driving rain and whirling wind, the high Teacher's Box bestowed a fantastic view of the match.

The players had found their own, pretty successful, ways of dealing with the downpour. He could see enchanted goggles on the faces of the whole Gryffindor team.

Gold. The Doctor blinked; eyes following that little speck. The snitch!

There was something at the corner of his mind; something bugging him. A memory? Something to do with the book, he just couldn't remember what it was…

Harry started to dart upwards, climbing against the rain towards the golden ball. Cedric looked up, quickly giving chase.

The Hufflepuff pressed against his broom, mimicking Harry's pose. Their Quidditch robes forced away the downpour, water spattering off and falling the ever-growing, already huge distance to the ground.

For a brief moment, the Doctor saw the outline of a great, black dog, illuminated by a bolt of lightning. Sirius.

The little, warning voice in the corner of his mind was screaming; yet the Doctor could do nothing except ignore it, when he couldn't remember.

Harry Potter rocketed up, towards the distant glint of gold. It seemed he was almost going to make it through the rain-

And then everything went wrong. The puddles, the soaked ground turned to ice; frosting over in a wave of cold. A horribly familiar wintry claw gripped the Doctor's heart; the Time Lord could see Harry felt it too. He was ascending with less gusto, energy being drained away.

With a glance down at the pitch, his blood ran cold; even colder than it ran already.

Dementors. A whole swarm; dozens, hundreds.

The black wraiths drew inwards, like a great horde of moths to a flame. Grass withered beneath them; rain turned to ice. Unimpeded, they glided gracefully, eerily on, up to the crowds and players.

They were genuine Dementors; that much was clear. With the bitterness they already bore the Vashta-Nerada, it was impossible any shadows would be allowed with them. No, lives were not at risk; souls were.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor muttered, unheard over the rain.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" the words were bellowed out by a cacophony of voice, all over the stadium.

Bursts of light shot out from random spots around the stadium. Every teacher emitted either a shield or an animal; all shining blindingly, and the occasional, talented Seventh Year was able to shield a few close people with a faint barrier.

Dumbledore released his Patronus; a majestic phoenix, circling the pitch once before swooping down, repelling a few of the reaper-like fiends with beats of whitely flaming wings.

Far, far above, the aura of the Dementors proved too much for the Boy Who Lived. He relinquished his grip on the broom; and while it continued to fly, he fell.

The Doctor elbowed the headmaster; and with the connection they'd forged over quite some time, Dumbledore knew the Time Lord's word without any need to speak aloud.

Once again, guilt drifted through his mind; a true reluctance, in hindsight, to request the Doctor leave Hogwarts. Yet this very event supported his cause; the menace of Dementors within School grounds.

Dumbledore descended from the teacher's box. He was already standing, to cast the spell, though he had not done so consciously. Whatever the case, his Patronus did one more, protective lap of the stadium, before nearing Dumbledore, hovering beside the headmaster's shoulder like a familiar. The Dementors were repelled by the phoenix; unable to do anything as the headmaster shouted one more incantation.

Harry's fall seemed to slow; the great height he'd achieved let him accelerate too fast for Dementors to get near him, and now he was guarded by Dumbledore's Patronus.

On that count, at least, there had been success.

"I'm so sorry about this, Albus," the Doctor caught up with the headmaster, getting through the Dementors by strength of will; straying from the protection of Patronus in the teacher's box as a form of penance

"On this count, I do not hold blame for you, Doctor," Dumbledore remarked.

Grateful, the Doctor nodded.

In the centre of the pitch, the fallen Harry stood, guarded by the Doctor and Dumbledore.

Around the outside, most people were in groups, huddles guarded by the people who could produce non-corporeal Patronuses. Several other teachers set corporeal animals galloping over the air, forcing some of the wraiths away. The players had all landed; joining the groups while one teacher, Madam Hooch, had commandeered a broom, and was flying around the pitch in an effort to force the Dementors away.

Softly, Dumbledore stroked the lit-feathered neck of his Patronus, treating it just like Fawkes. It gave a silent caw.

The air rippled.

A pulse, an unheard drumbeat, emanated from the Patronus. Each Dementor caught in it froze for a split second; soon gliding away. No matter how strongly the darkness resisted, the light of the phoenix prevailed.

"Headmaster," Snape hurried to the centre, unaffected by the wave which had frightened the Dementors so much, "What caused this?" the Potions Master sent a meaningful, accusing look at the Doctor

"Now Severus," Lupin also joined the group in the centre of the pitch, "The excitement of the whole audience would be irresistible to such beings. You cannot seriously blame the Doctor: while he may have…unorthodox means, he is certainly not responsible for the actions of every Dementor."

"I was not suggesting that _Remus_," Snape spoke impatiently, placing a mocking emphasis on his name. "It is, ah, a mere coincidence that this Doctor deals with them, and they then attack Quidditch."

"This isn't getting us anywhere," the Doctor interrupted, "Can we at least focus on what we can do?" he seemed oddly irate.

Well, oddly to them. At this also, Dumbledore felt a pang of guilt. Was he responsible for this impatience also?

"I'm talking to them," the Doctor suddenly announced, before anyone could speak; "Tell them that their job here is up."

"Doctor?" Dumbledore's brow creased, "Is that truly your wish?"  
"Of course, I've got to do something good before I go!" the Time Lord grinned, expression unconvincing. He took a step closer to Dumbledore, speaking in scarcely more than a croak; "And you were right about one thing. The things that happen to people near me, it's never good."

The teachers took the news of the Doctor's departure with surprise; yet silently. They had more pressing concerns.

Hands in pockets, the Doctor started towards a lone, remaining Dementor. A spokesperson for the wraiths, it seemed.

Snape flicked his wand once; a beautiful silver doe ambled past him. Dumbledore looked at the Patronus, strangely melancholy; he looked away. The silver creature walked up to the side of the Doctor.

The Time Lord looked down at it; surprised. He frowned, looking across at Snape: "She brings out the best in you," the Doctor murmured, nodding once, grateful.

Protected by Snape's Patronus, he walked forwards.

Steps away from the Dementor, and doubt seized him again; that same, icy claw which assailed him near every such fiend. Gritting his teeth, the Time Lord stepped near the ominous black cloak.

"What did you want this time?" Somehow, he still managed to sound bored, as much as curious

"Souls," the Dementor hissed, "We must feed."

"No," the Doctor's entirely body loosened; he spoke simply.

The sable rags flickered, a sudden jagged motion unlike their normal drifting. Beneath it, mottled flesh recoiled, shaking oh so slightly.

"You wished for our aid," the wraith hissed, "There is a price."

"I've paid it," the Doctor murmured to himself, before once again staring, defiant at the Dementor. "I still say no. Just go now."

A moment of silence.

Featureless, grey skin stared from beneath the hood. The Doctor could see it; could see a slight indentation over the Dementor's maw, and the deathly skin around it.

"No," the Dementor hissed.

Shadowy robes were flung back; the reaper glided forwards. Clammy hands reached for the Doctor, and the soul-stealing maw opened, inhaling. The Time Lord stepped back, too slow, feeling all the tragedies and hurt of his past well up.

Light.

Snape's Patronus moved, once again, past him; the shining doe nearing the Dementor. White energy repelled the darkness; the silver doe bearing enough power to force the Dementor back.

A hiss came from beneath the fiend's cloak.

Then it turned, and neatly glided away, leaving the Doctor standing just where he was. The doe ambled back, walking in a quiet circle.

O

Harry's broomstick had been destroyed; shattered when it flew into the Whomping Willow. He'd been devastated by the news, understandably, yet couldn't do much about it upon hearing it immediately. He'd been in the Hospital Wing.

Now he had time to dwell on the thought; and he wished he hadn't.

His Nimbus had gotten him through a lot. Not just Quidditch; his skill on it had allowed him to reach the Philosopher's Stone in the first year, even if he used a different broom.

And now, he was again being banned from Hogsmeade.

There were actually visits there now; the teachers trusted the Dementors to stop whatever threat there was, while also being ready to use their own spells against those fiends.

The Dementors however, worked with bitterness in whatever passed for their hearts. They still helped; yet reluctant, just a likely to move for the students as much as searching for Sirius Black.

There was never a visit when Ron and Hermione didn't tell him a story about Dementors. While Ron was probably exaggerating, unless there had really been a Dementor one hundred metres tall, Hermione's tales were a great deal more credible.

"Harry!" the Boy Who Lived heard the voices of the Weasley twins calling him.

Bored and depressed, the black haired boy moved towards them; they were by a statue of a one eyed witch.

"Early Christmas present for you, Harry," one of the duo said, taking the Third Years into an empty classroom.

Today they'd decided to style their robes identically. There was as good as no way to tell them apart. And one of them, Fred or George, was holding out a piece of yellow parchment.

"What's that supposed to be?" Harry said, sceptical

"That, Harry," the twin who spoke used a cadence more common to George, "Is the secret of our success."

"It's a wrench, giving it to you," the one who was presumably Fred continued; "But we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."

"Anyway, we know it off by heart," 'George' shrugged, "We don't really need it any more. And we think it's gone faulty."

"It's a bit of old parchment," Harry stated simply. It could hardly go faulty; did it refuse to let them write on it?

Actually, that was the sort of stunt Fred and George would pull. Harry frowned at it, wary.

"A bit of old parchment!" 'Fred' clutched his hands on his heart, melodramatic, theatrically offended, "Show him Fred."

Harry rolled his eyes; he'd identified them wrongly.

"With pleasure," the real Fred grinned, before withdrawing his wand and tipping the tip once, gently on the parchment: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Spreading from the point his wand touched it, spindly trails of dark ink wound over it; outlining passages, statues, people in a web of detail, a spidery font illustrating what looked to be the whole of Hogwarts. Not only was the layout of Hogwarts demonstrated, but footsteps marking the locations of people were also there; moving in conjunction with their real-life counterparts.

Along the top were a few, grand lines of text:

_Messrs Moony, Worm-tail, Pad-foot, River, and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical and Non-Magical Mischief Makers_

_Are proud to present:_

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

Harry exhaled softly upon seeing the intricate detail put into the map. In one spot he could see himself, Fred and George.

Strangely, he couldn't see the Doctor; though there was an unnamed set of footsteps. But that wasn't the most striking detail: especially on the outer edges of the map, there was a mess of ink, virtually opaque, unbroken black. Names and creatures, all demonstrated; yet such huge swarms that names and individuals could not be read from it.

O

The Doctor was once again in Dumbledore's Office, looking more than a little upset, standing opposite his translucent TARDIS. Dumbledore was beside the box.

They had just seen another student, reduced to bones. Gwydion. Devoured by the Vashta-Nerada.

Reports of the deaths had naturally been leaked to the public. However Hogwarts was not blamed; Hogwarts did not have the constant pressure of the Ministry on it, though Lucius could easily have organized it. Instead, the Ministry was subject to scrutiny and appraisal. Their Dementors were supposed to be protecting the School. Why was this happening.

Folded on one table, in the Office, the Daily Prophet's front page story could be seen: Cornelius Fudge speaking to the press, hands gesturing repeatedly seemingly to ward off the journalists.

"It's Black, the Dementors of Azkaban are there only for Black." His excuses seemed to mean little to the flashing cameras and inquiring reporters.

Indecision was the main force in Dumbledore's Office. The Doctor, while guilty enough to feel he must, still felt reluctant to leave the School. And the headmaster regretted the request for the Time Lord to leave, since the instant they'd been spoken; his grudge was against the Dementors, not against the Doctor, and with Gwydion's death, the need for the man was greater than before.

"So, this is goodbye," the Doctor murmured, soft. His hand rested on air; on the insubstantial TARDIS outline.

"I fear so," Albus Dumbledore bowed his head, wand held lightly to his side. "My apologies, Doctor."

"Oh, there's no need for that," the Time Lord shrugged, "I'm here to help. If this is what you want, I'll do it."

"Thank you," Dumbledore didn't smile, though hints of one were in his tone.

The headmaster raised his wand, muttering a quick incantation. A flash of light. The next moment, the TARDIS was growing solid at a speed much higher than before. The Doctor yanked his hand back, simply watching the blue box appear.

The ancient engines groaned and wheezed until-

The door opened. Amy peered out; "Hiya! `Bout time we got here," the redhead grinned.

"We're going," the Doctor said bluntly, sadly

"Already?" Amy blinked, "Boy, you really caused a lot of trouble this time."

She stepped back. The Time Lord walked in, shutting the door, continuing their conversation inside, while outside Dumbledore closed his eyes.

The headmaster was truly sorry about this; as he kept saying. But he simply would not approve of any man who was willing to deal with Dementors, even if he later sent them away. He could not approve.

At least, not obviously.

The headmaster smiled slyly to himself; an expression more fitting on the face of a prankster, like Fred or George. He pointed his wand at the blue box, and a small shimmer moved around it.

Albus then sat down, waiting. One minute later, on the dot, the Doctor's head peered out of the TARDIS: "She doesn't seem to want to take off," the Time Lord smiled, semi-embarrassed.

The headmaster looked up, innocence twinkling in his eyes.


	7. Passed

**I've been pretty distracted recently, but hopefully things will calm down soon.  
In any case, enjoy! **

Harry made his first trip to Hogsmeade through the passage from the statue of the one eyed witch.

Nothing too major had happened; there'd been a brief moment in the passage, when a block of solid ink on the map, like the patches around Hogwarts of so many creatures and names, had been in his way. The tunnel had been dark around that area; so Harry just cast Lumos and the ink somehow cleared.

In any case, he hadn't expected to spend time hiding underneath a table.

And then he'd heard it; and he still couldn't believe it.

Sitting on a bench in Hogsmeade, sobbing. That was where he was; he'd overheard the teachers. Sirius Black was the reason his parents had been killed. And the man was his godfather.

Ron and Hermione tried to comfort him. They tried; still, their voices went unheard. As if through a veil; muffled. Muted. Meaningless.

"He killed them," Harry murmured for a numberless time. "He killed them!"

The repeated words became a shout; and the Boy Who Lived got to his feet, stomping along the ground.

Ron moved to follow; but Hermione grabbed his arm, slowing the redhead. Weasley turned, and the girl shook her head: "He needs time."

Burning away all his rage wasn't easy. Exertion was the aim; move, run, walk, whatever, as if his bitterness was simply fat to be shrugged off. Step. Step. Pace. Pace. Constant motion, breaking into a run.

Minutes later, Harry collapsed, kneeling and panting raggedly to the ground. He beat his fists uselessly. Damn you Sirius.

He couldn't remember his parents: just a flash of green. And why? It seemed, because of Sirius. All that one prisoner's fault.

The frailty of dreams had morphed how he saw his parents. Instead of viewing them as normal humans, they'd attained a perfect, untainted status; he had nothing to tell him otherwise. The normal bond between a child and his parents had no kind of reality in its way.

Harry took out the Map, activating it with a tap from his wand and staring at it, weary.

It took him a few seconds to find himself; and then he frowned. A block of solid black ink was right next to him; looking up, he located it. Just under that tree.

He couldn't see anything. There was just a shadow; not a horde of life as the Map suggested.

Was it broken?

Frowning, Harry got to his feet, walking towards the tree, trying to distract himself from thoughts of Sirius.

A shout; he flung magic at the tree, incinerating a branch. He dropped the map. Again, he flung a curse, draining yet more energy from himself; from his mind, and his descending thoughts.

Fire burned from the tree. Ink on the map rippled; the block of solid ink splitting up. Weaker now; little more than a scrawl. Names were still too indistinct to read, but the parchment behind them could actually, just about, be seen.

Curse upon curse; the shadow was eradicated, as if fleeing, dissolving.

Harry didn't look at the map. He didn't see the area clear. Instead, he threw nameless hexes and sparks at the tree, and once it fell, the air and ground, imagining each and every one struck Sirius Black.

O

"So you're Lupin?" Amy was sitting on a cabinet in the teacher's office.

She was lightly scratching the head of a small, bright orange bird. It was perched in a birdcage, motioning as if singing despite a silencing charm cast upon it.

"That would be me," the teacher nodded. He was drinking a potion from a goblet, gifted to him by Snape.

There was a whole menagerie of creatures in the office. Amy sat beside one; the bird, while around Lupin there were lots more. Fish-tanks, more cages, shaking cupboards, and something which appeared to be a hamster wheel, in which a gnome-like creature slept.

"Is that the wolf-potion?" the redhead commented, swinging her legs back and forth.

"That's an accurate description," Lupin seemed amused; "It allows me to keep my mind even when I transform," he chuckled, "It's bizarre. I'm supposed to be keeping this a secret, and yet you and your friend both know."

"Rory knows too," Amy shrugged, before frowning; "I think. Hey, what's that?" she gestured towards a shaking chest, thudding against the wall.

Lupin turned to see what he gestured towards: "That's a boggart," he identified, "Harry wanted to learn how to protect himself from Dementors. He's extraordinarily gifted."

O

A new broom. The next Quidditch match, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, was about to begin.

A Fire-bolt, sent by an unknown benefactor. To replace his old Nimbus; one which had been wrecked by the Whomping Willow.

The handle was sleek, smooth; unfamiliar. He didn't have the same connection with it, as he did with the Nimbus, but the broom still responded to his touch. And it was worth a lot to see the look of envy on the faces of several Slytherins, when the Fire-bolt was unveiled.

Yet, strangely, Draco was one of the few who didn't turn as green as the Slytherin banners. He'd nodded once, somewhere between impressed and snide.

Carefully, Harry mounted it, feeling it shake beneath him. Magic ran through the polished wood, and the bristles at the end thrummed.

Somehow, he found himself looking forward to it.

Madam Hooch shouted for the players to emerge. Grinning, Harry obeyed, momentarily wobbling, before the broom automatically stabilized. It took him a few seconds to get used to the speed waiting, dormant, in the broom.

Harry took notice of the Ravenclaw seeker as they lined up; a pretty girl called Cho Chang. Apparently they'd been a little hassle getting her onto the team.

The Doctor didn't usually interfere with the normal, administration matters of Hogwarts, yet he'd blatantly been influencing Ravenclaw as they picked a Seeker. For some reason, he'd been strangely hostile towards Cho. Oddly, as Ron told him, the Doctor had started dropping small gifts for Ginny (sweets mostly, though there was the occasional bow tie for some unknown reason) ever since Cho had been picked.

The match began.

Harry revelled in the chance to fully use the Fire-bolt. He could feel the air rushing straight past him; and it wouldn't be a stretch of imagination to see it catching alight. The broom blazed forwards; easily outrunning Cho, before it paused in midair, its rider looking around for the Snitch.

A flicker of gold.

With that, Harry dove, piercing through the air. It was only a well-timed bludger from a Ravenclaw beater which prevented him catching the Snitch.

One more loop of the pitch. Harry hated it; it was quiet. Time to think. And he'd tried to avoid that, for every instant since his journey to Hogsmeade and hearing about Sirius Black.

He saw a glint of gold after a few minutes. And so he plunged, thankfully, back into oblivion; back into pursuit.

Glittering at the Ravenclaw end. Harry darted towards it, fast as a bullet; Cho stayed close behind. But he was ahead, reaching out, closing the distance to the Snitch-

"Oh!" Cho's exhalation caught him off guard.

Below him, three sable cloaks could be seen. Dementors. Harry shouted a Patronus, sending white light towards them, before spinning back quickly, mind somehow still clear, closing his fingers around the Snitch.

The whistle blew; though the noise was muffled by the crimson blurs of the whole Gryffindor team soaring straight towards Harry, and the cheers of every single Gryffindor anywhere near the pitch.

"That was quite some Patronus," a voice said into Harry's ear, once he was on the ground.

Harry looked around; to see Lupin. The teacher was impressed, yet visibly shaken.

"The Dementors didn't affect me at all!" Harry said excitedly, breathless. He was about to say more, when Lupin again spoke; this time the teacher's voice was more tense, warning.

"They weren't Dementors."

Harry looked across the pitch, surprised, and a little perturbed, to see a great many teachers near the trio of dark cloaks. Dumbledore was in the front, a large Lumos spell pulsing from the tip of his wand. The Doctor stood by his side; and behind them, Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, several teachers Harry couldn't immediately remember the names of, and a few Prefects held other light-spells aloft, in an attempt to ward off what appeared to be empty robes. Shadow.

O

Rory was in the Gryffindor Common Rooms; with Amy, at the side of the room. They watched the students, eagerly celebrating their victory.

It held a little more meaning for Rory, more than just a party. They were his House, as he'd discovered last time they visited Hogwarts. While he wasn't a Wizard, and so couldn't really join in, he felt a certain kinship.

It was a disconcerting thought; if he'd actually been magical, it might be him celebrating right now; him throwing Harry around the room, him dancing to music in front of the whole Common Room.

"This kinda thing looks a lot more fun with magic," Amy commented, chuckling, ducking as a levitated pillow was flung across the room.

"One word for it," Rory muttered, ducking as another cushion was thrown, and a spontaneous pillow fight started up.

"Hey, if we ever have kids, you're going to be going through a lot worse," the redhead laughed

Rory blinked: "Huh?"

"I don't mean now," Amy was still laughing, now at his expression as much as anything; "Not in the TARDIS. If we ever settle down anywhere though."

"Mm," Rory nodded, "I keep thinking of the Dream Lord."

"Yeah," Amy stopped laughing, "Hopefully nothing like that'll happen. Please Rory, no ponytail."

"Ok," now he laughed, "I'll try to restrain myself."

Amy smiled. A few moments of silence; punctuated only by a whizz and pop, as some Gryffindor succeeded in transfiguring a leaf into a small broomstick, and enchanting it to dart madly around the Common Room.

"I wonder if they'll be a Wizard," Rory mused

"Probably not. Wrong playground; or however the Doctor put it," Amy ducked as the mini-broom darted over her head

"Yeah…" Rory sighed

"Hey, they'll be half-me. You really think you'd get through it if they were magic too?"

O

Once more, Sirius Black made his way through Hogwarts; this time as a dog. The black, shaggy animal paced up the stone steps, hopping as the staircases changed.

Gryffindor was up here. The Common Room and Dormitories; and in them, somewhere, was Peter Pettigrew. The rat.

Sirius slowed, starting to slink as if injured; there were a few people by the portrait, three of them. Then he stooped; the portrait was different. It was some knight, rather than the Fat Lady. Perhaps he'd scared her off.

He permitted himself a couple of amused moments; in his years at Hogwarts, there had been so many days when he'd been kept out of the Common Room. He doubted there'd been a single Gryffindor who hadn't, at some point, dreamt of forcing her out of that portrait.

After those thoughts, Sirius move don, closer to the new knight, and the trio outside it. Carefully, he made sure to appear pitiable; he'd spent a lot of time on the run, and in his experience people were more likely to ignore you, or let you past, if you looked weakened.

"Good dog," the red haired woman standing by the portrait turned, almost crooning, "Think we should name him?"

"He looks like a Sirius to me," another of the people by the portrait, a man this time, spoke.

The dog stiffened, softly yapping. Tentative, he took another step forwards, peering up; the third person there was the Doctor he'd met last time he tried to enter the Common Room.

"Hiya Sirius," he grinned.

Rolling his eyes, and with one bark, Sirius Black stood up, transforming back into a human.

"Merlin's beard!" he grunted, "There are three of you now."

"No need to be like that," the Doctor grinned, "We've got a gift; the passwords," he held out a curl of paper.

Watchful, Sirius quickly snatched it from his grasp.

"Why are you doing this?" the ex-prisoner looked down at the paper, skimming through the list of seemingly random words while keeping one eye trained on the trio

"To save Neville a detention," the Doctor shrugged, before frowning; "Oh, you mean why specifically? Why not?"

The reply was so much like James, that Sirius couldn't quite withhold a snort.

"Thanks," Sirius muttered.

Then, unused to social interaction after all this time, he simply barged past them. Into the Common Room.


	8. Protection

**We're getting quite close to the end of the story now. Well, this one. It will continue in a Year Four tale, and a few ongoing clues have been dropped.  
Anyway, I hope the characters were ok this chapter. Ginny's in the start, and I didn't have much to go on for her behaviour in this year.  
Enjoy! **

"Hey Harry," Ginny Weasley walked over, before sitting down just next to Harry. "Jelly baby?"

"What?" Harry frowned, looking up from his brooding and frowning at the small, brightly coloured sweet Ginny was offering him

"I'm sorry," she looked away quickly, "The Doctor said you looked like you needed someone to talk to. He sent me over."

"Oh-um, I don't mind," Harry frantically tried to find something to say, to stop himself seeming rude. In the lack of finding anything, he contented himself by taking the small, green sweet.

"He's been giving me these for days," she spoke softly after a few seconds; "Ever since Cho became the Seeker." She was fiddling with a bag of jelly babies.

"I heard about that," Harry nodded; "Do you know why? Ron's been puzzling over it for days."

"No," Ginny gave a shy giggle.

They never quite met each others' eyes. Sometimes one of them made a move to do so; Ginny either looked down, or Harry's eyes darted sideways, distracted.

"He told me about Sirius," Ginny said in a sudden gush; having built up courage to say those words, before quickly letting them all be spoken.

"Oh," Harry muttered, a little harshly.

"I'm sorry," Ginny quickly repeated herself, quiet

"Don't worry," Harry replied, trying to comfort the Weasley, "It's just not my favourite topic."

"I understand that," Ginny smiled, relieved, "I'd still blame You-Know-Who though. He actually did it."

Harry nodded, still only half listening. Ginny's words had reopened the well within him; the part constantly thinking of his parents, and now the part fixated on Black.

"His fault," Harry murmured, almost inaudible.

Ginny had nothing to say; she wasn't used to scenarios like this. Her brothers usually comforted each other, and when that didn't work her father stepped in, almost a child himself.

Self-consciously, she extended an arm, resting it on his back, patting as if with a pet, save for a certain tenderness.

"I can still remember them," Harry murmured, "When the Dementors are close. I can hear my mother scream; I can hear my dad trying to protect her. Now I always think of Sirius: and he was here Ginny, he was right here. In the dormitories last night, he held a knife over Ron."

Ginny shuddered next to him; her brother had been attacked. With that sentence she found she understood Harry so much more.

"I'm sorry," she said again, shy, afraid her words weren't enough

"You still don't need to be," Harry tried to hold back his sobs,

"I still am," the redhead murmured in response.

O

All over Hogwarts, there could be seen signs of tightened security. Flitwick was charming the front doors, security trolls were given lamps in conjunction with several other implements, Prefects had been taken in to secret lessons, and the outer walls of Hogwarts positively thrummed with magic.

Most students put it down to Black. The prisoner had made it into the castle; indeed, had found the passwords to Gryffindor Tower. After Harry, so they all thought.

It seemed logical that Sirius was the intended target of all the security. Of course, they were wrong. Every change had been made to repel the Vashta-Nerada.

There had been three deaths so far. Rowena, Gwydion, and an older Gryffindor no one had yet identified. Again, Sirius was blamed, but the shadows were the real cause.

That was making no mention of the deaths among the Dementors. So far out of the borders of the castle, their only defence was their innate aura, stealing life and joy from the world. They were now refused entry to the castle and any of the grounds. Patronuses patrolled the battlements and fields.

Dementors tried to gain entry to the castle every day. Occasionally they made it as far as the walls, but invariably they were repelled by a teacher, or one of the Prefects taught the Patronus.

The teachers and prefects were the only to know of Vashta-Nerada. At Snape's suggestion, the Doctor had held an impromptu class about the shadows, educating the few students, and re-informing the teachers.

Between lessons, and at breaks, students were told to keep at least one _Lumos _spell blazing per group, even at midday, while walking around. They weren't told why; only that it was necessary.

There hadn't been any deaths since that command was issued. And yet things were still so, so far from perfect: there was no way to repel the Vashta-Nerada from the whole castle, and that was even if it was possible to find them. They looked the same as any other shadow.

Oh, and one other change. The Doctor had moved the TARDIS over to Hagrid's Hut: the giant lived quite a way from Hogwarts, and it was impractical to patrol that far away. Instead, he'd been lent a key, with express instructions not to touch the console and not to mess up the bow tie collection in the back. Instead, he was to rest on a makeshift bed when it got dark; that meant almost all the time. The dense cloud cover brought on by the Dementors made sunlight a rare gift.

"My Office looks empty without that box of yours," Dumbledore commented, looking appraisingly at the now-clear square on the floor.

"I'm not bringing it back," the Doctor shook his head, "Wasn't easy getting it over there. Took it over, came back, took it over with you, and then walked back, all lit up like a Christmas tree," he shook his head, long hair tousling itself.

"Are the Vashta-Nerada such a threat?" Dumbledore said after a few seconds, "Is there nothing we are able to do?"

"I'll think of something," the Doctor shrugged, "I think. I normally do. Or I just throw out the rule book; rules are so stuffy. Um, no offense, I know you're head-teacher and all, but come on! They can be so restricting."

"Rules are often in place for a reason," Dumbledore chided, eyes twinkling, "Save for extraordinary circumstances."  
"I am a walking extraordinary circumstance," the Doctor shot back.

"That I do not doubt." Albus laughed.

A flare of sudden light outside the window. Either a strong Patronus or a Lumos; hard to tell. It was followed by a much brighter flash, and then nothing else. A shadow garbed in the cloak of a Dementor; once more trying to move into the Hogwarts grounds.

It was a terribly common sight. At least six times a week, the shadows glided in, and that was just those that they knew about, the cloaked swarms.

"The Dementors are keeping them away," the Doctor murmured to himself suddenly, a phrase mostly unrelated to the previous conversation, though Dumbledore knew what the Time Lord was talking about.

"They are not coming within the grounds," he spoke mildly sharply

"What? No, no," the Doctor shook his head, "I'm never doing that again. Some things are going too far, you were right Albus. Though I do seem to make a habit out of going too far… Anyway, that's not going to work forever. By the end of the year, they'll have left. To be replaced by dragons it seems, but you shouldn't know about that yet. So what can we do in the meanwhile?"

"Where did they first come from?" Dumbledore's question came shortly after the Doctor's monologue, "To understand something, we must first look at its origins."

"Nah, that's book six," the Doctor frowned, "Oh well. The right order's boring. The Vashta-Nerada are swarms hatched from minute eggs, most commonly found in forests. I reckon that's where this lot has come from; the Forbidden Forest. Lots of dark trees, perfect for them, and teeming with life. Only now the Dementors are here; the wildlife is disturbed, probably retreating, and the skies are darkened. They've left the Forest. New territory to them, so they're not keen on it, but it's their only choice at the moment. So until the Dementors leave…" his voice trailed off

"Things are rarely that easy," Dumbledore murmured.

The Doctor nodded appreciatively; Fawkes gave a small caw.

"They know we're here now," the Doctor murmured, "They never left the Forest before, they didn't, they shouldn't know about Hogwarts. And some are already in here. We need to scare them all out of the castle, make the Dementors leave, _and _wait for the weather to clear."

"One cannot control nature," Dumbledore bowed his head, saddened, "And I sense the shadows are still able to bear light, albeit unwillingly. No life should live without the Sun."

"I was hoping they'd forget that," the Doctor pouted a little.

O

Peter Pettigrew.

The name; the impossible name. A man murdered by Sirius Black, and yet Harry had seen it on the Map.

Carefully, the Boy Who Lived made his way through the corridors, guided by wand-light and the yellowing parchment, towards the pattering footsteps of the impossible man.

The portraits he passed were either snoring, or groaning as he walked past with a wand lit up. Several insisted he dim the light, or quench it entirely, yet the instructions given to all the students rang clear in his head. He needed to keep a bright light at all times.

Then he was in a long, straight corridor. At the far end, on the Map, an elegant banner _Peter Pettigrew_ was circling, footsteps moving in the same loop, before stopping, as if peering at Harry's location. Then the footsteps moved on, unheard, yet blatantly there on the Map: straight towards Harry. Centimetres away-

The boy's neck snapped up. He looked forwards, straight into the opaque blackness.

A quiet scrabbling met his ears; but there was no man. No Peter Pettigrew. The footsteps on the Map had passed him by, as if it had gone straight through him. No sign of the man.

Harry frowned at the Map: Pettigrew was still distinctly mentioned. A mistake?

Casting his eyes up the corridor, Harry caught sight of one other thing; one of the black, blotches on the Map was present. Just around the corner, a dead-end spot.

Curious now, and needing to find something to satisfy his disappointment in missing Pettigrew, Harry began to walk. Footsteps were muted, lit wand raised high.

He wouldn't meet any teachers. They were all guarding the castle, or sleeping themselves.

Half a minute later, he slowed, turning the corner. A candelabra formed the only light; giving Harry the chance to extinguish his wand. Just beyond the light, on the Map, there was an opaque dot; yet Harry could only see shadow the other side.

Tentatively, he stepped closer, in the candlelight, looking forwards. Definitely nothing in the darkness though, wait-

There was something; vague. A texture in the air; something definitely solid, but concealed in the shadow so as to be unseen. Grey- no, white. Smooth. And on the floor, closer to Harry…was that a wand?

The black haired boy frowned, peering at his map; this was the only such blot within the castle. It was hard to see if any specific person was in it; the muddle of other names and paces, seemingly constrained by the border of the light, prevented any clear discernment.

He exhaled suddenly, from shock as much as anything. There was a small shape on the ground; a black shadow in the candlelight, a Y shape, like some primitive claw.

Nothing was casting it.

Harry took a tentative step back; surprised to see a similar Y echoed in the shape of the blot on the Map.

Frowning, the Boy Who Lived moved closer to the sable shadow, dim wand gesturing. The shadow seemed to flicker.

Pale arms caught him around the waist and, somewhat violently, yanked him back.

"_Lumos Solem!_" a drawling voice shouted over his shoulder.

A flare of blinding white light suddenly appeared, hanging in the air and clearly illuminating the nearby corridor. Harry looked sideways; to see Draco Malfoy, wand raised, standing beside him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Draco fumed; "You're meant to be going around with wand-light

Harry blinked; momentarily stunned. Quickly glimpsing at the Map, erasing the writing with a quick mutter, he noted the variety of routes leading to that point. He should've been watching them, not the blot.

"What- what are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry shot back, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the bright spell.

"Pansy," he murmured slowly, features slightly softening as he gestured to the shadow. "She went in there."

"Pansy?" Harry frowned, stumbling on the spot; "What were you two even doing out of bed?"

"We heard someone," Draco frowned; "Saw her come down the corridor. Really messed up, brown hair; just saw the back of her. Vanished around here; Pansy went to follow, and went into the shadow."

"What happened then?" Harry made a move to go through the candlelight, into the shadow which caused a blot on the Map.

"Look," Draco muttered curtly, waving his wand.

The shimmering ball of light detached itself from his wand. It wavered for a moment, before hovering, just about stable, forwards, entering the shadow beyond. The rays cast down illuminated smooth grey. Bones. It may have been Pansy; it may have been. Once. Now there was no flesh.

"What is this light?" a third voice said, sternly from a distance. Harry and Draco both turned, Malfoy pausing for a moment indecisively, before refusing to extinguish the light. Approaching them was Remus Lupin.

"What are you two doing out of bed?" the professor lifted his shining wand, creating a light to join Draco's. A gasp left his lips as he beheld 'Pansy': "Merlin's beard, not another one."

A tense quiet dominated the air. Lupin looked over both of them; gaze invariably returning, haunted, to the skeleton. He looked at the duo, taking note of Draco's light with relief, then turning to Harry, judgemental. He exhaled again upon recognizing the parchment in the boy's hand.

"Can I trust you to return to bed?" Remus focused on Draco.

Eyes wide, in relief, the Slytherin nodded. Lupin turned ninety degrees, to let him pass. Light still held high, Draco hurried away, an apologetic nod sent to Harry.

The Lupin looked back at Harry.

"You've always struck me as someone with a good sense of judgement," Lupin didn't blink once, "What possessed you to leave bed, and of all things, with that?" he tapped his wand on the inert Map.

Harry blinked; not expecting Lupin's knowledge of the parchment. He stuttered over a reply.

"Don't you know Sirius Black is looking for you?" Lupin continued, "If he got his hands on that Map, we'd have no way to find him. I knew your father, and I think he'd be positively ashamed that his sacrifice was demeaned with you sticking your neck out."

"The Map?" Harry blinked, reeling from the sudden force of Lupin's anger, and the hurt his words caused

"Yes Harry, I know it's a map," Remus rolled his eyes

"It doesn't always work," Harry stumbled over his words, "I mean, it showed someone who wasn't there, and there are blotches all over it."

"What do you mean?" Remus blinked, lifting his wand back up and resting his chin on the tip, "Who did it show?"

"Peter Pettigrew," Harry mumbled, "He's the one Sirius Black killed, isn't he?"

"You'd have thought so," Lupin's voice slowed; now becoming distracted, contemplative. A great deal gentler than before. "Very interesting, very interesting indeed."

"There are black spots on it too. Empty places, there's nothing actually there, but it's filled on the Map," Harry gestured back to the shadow surrounding the bones, "There's one there."

"Really?" Remus said, somewhat sharply. "Well, I'm afraid I cannot let you go around carrying that," he gestured at the parchment.

Harry blinked, a little too stunned to be resisting as Remus gently confiscated the Map.

"Now," the teacher tried to sound kinder, "If you get back to bed, we won't mention this."

O

Dumbledore's Office: the Doctor was the only person there, milling around, expression like a child in a candy shop as he savoured the mess of devices around.

Lupin strode into the Office, brandishing the Marauder's Map.

"Doctor," he began the conversation in an excited tone; "Did you say there was no way to track the Vashta-Nerada?"

"Yep," the Time Lord turned, "Well, nope, depending on which way you want to look at it. None that we can manage, unless you want to sonic every shadow in Hogwarts."

"There is one now," Lupin slapped the activated Map down on the desk.

Footsteps wandered around; a few people. And on top of that, swarms of creatures and names too close together to be clearly seen. The shadows of the Vashta-Nerada.


	9. Broken Bonds

**Um...yeah. There are a couple of bits I just couldn't resist doing in this chapter. Really. Oh well.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Quite near the end of the story, but the ongoing theme for the series is being hinted at.  
This update was a little delayed as there was a random Doctor Who oneshot I just wanted to write. Anyway, that's done now! Enjoy! **

High up in the tower, Divination was taking place. Harry, Ron and an irritated Hermione were sat around a foggy crystal ball.

"Completely ridiculous," the schoolgirl huffed, glaring at the crystal ball as if anger would convince it to relinquish its secrets,

"Yeah," Ron shrugged, "Still, if it's foggy tonight then they've got a point," he tapped a fingernail on the side of the orb, producing an audible clink.

"I can't believe we're gonna be tested on this," Harry stared at the crystal with only slightly less venom than Hermione.

"Nah, that's easy," Ron muttered, "Just say you'll die a horrible death. The hag will give you full marks."

"This isn't a lesson," Hermione was still groaning, "This is a complete waste of time."

The ethereal teacher drifted around the class, seeming to pay next to no attention despite darting towards certain students and giving personal 'prophecies', usually about some great tragedy.

As she neared the trio, Harry and Ron busied themselves, acting as if enraptured by the orbs. Hermione simply glared scathingly at hers.

For a brief moment, Harry thought he saw the outline of a dog, but it soon shrunk, mist fading into something more akin to a rat. And then the rolls of mist dissolved utterly, giving him a glance into meaningless cloud.

Trelawney found her way over to Harry, flinching upon looking at the boy as she always did.

"My dear," her ghostly voice echoed, "May I peer into your future?"

Without waiting for the bewildered Harry to respond, she moved closer, staring, fixated at the crystal ball. "My dear-" she began tremulous

"Oh, do tell," Hermione said, mockingly fascinated, "How is he going to die today?"

Ron shot a look, part surprised, part congratulatory at the witch. Seconds later, and the seer teacher also looked up, somewhat flustered.

"From the moment you first stepped into this room," Trelawney murmured, a harsh edge to her normal, wispy tones, "I saw that our studies of the Inner Eye would mean nothing to you. Indeed, I have never seen a soul so hopelessly…mundane."

Hermione blinked for a moment, staring at the seer. Then, in a frenzy of stiff motion, she stood up; "Fine," she snapped.

She gathered all her things, very quickly, knocking her crystal ball off the table as she hefted her filled bag, bursting at the seams with all her books and things.

"Fine," she said again, taking out her Divination textbooks and, with an uncharacteristic violence, slamming it on the table.

Once more, she said "fine," and stomped out of the classroom, leaving everyone staring after her, shocked at the studious witch's sudden departure.

It was all Harry and Ron could do, to keep from cheering.

Later the same day, once all lessons had concluded, the seer was sitting in her office, very much alone. A crystal ball lay at the side of her desk, cracked by some overeager student.

"Hello?" the Doctor ducked in to the tower. He was carrying another textbook, one of Hermione's, which she had not brought to the lesson. "Hermione said to give this back. Well, actually she said to throw it in your face, but I'd prefer just giving it back."

"Very well," Trelawney nodded, oddly distracted, melancholy and yet more real, strangely closer to the present than she normally acted.

Frowning a little at how distracted the seer was, the Doctor tentatively approached, putting the book down on the side of the desk, before turning to walk away.

A hand reached out, and tightly gripped his elbow.

The Doctor turned, shaking his arm to get it free from Trelawney's vice-like grip. She stared at him, eyes wider than ever, unblinking. She spoke; voice deeper, more powerful.

"_Time Lord_," her words echoed, as if spoken by something else within her; something she had no ability to think about. Then the harsh voice spoke again, not saying much, yet with a great impact: "_Silence will fall._"

Trelawney's head slumped forwards, whatever spirit possessing her, released.

Shaken, the Time Lord continued to walk away, leaving the room. His expression was haunted; the prophecy playing on his mind. Those words again…

O

"Your friend's got quite a punch," Draco murmured, rubbing his jaw.

"I'll take your word for it," Harry murmured.

The two were deep inside Hogwarts, some obscure inner room barely anyone paid attention to. They didn't like to speak anywhere too near the public eye; things would take too long to explain to gossip-hungry students.

A couple of days ago, Hermione had dealt Draco a solid blow, and according to the Slytherin, it still ached.

"Oh," Malfoy muttered, "And good job winning the cup, Potter."

He was naturally talking about Quidditch: Gryffindor had won the final match against Slytherin. The Slytherin's voice held only a vague trace of disappointed bitterness. Strangely, Draco was genuinely impressed by Harry's victory. Not angry at him; only a little upset he hadn't won.

"Thanks," Harry nodded. "You played well."

"Yeah, the Fire-bolt was unfair," Draco shifted the topic away from complimenting him, "Ever figure out who sent you it?"

"No," Harry sighed, "Hermione reckons it was Sirius Black. The broom wasn't hexed or anything though; she and McGonagall practically tore it apart to find that out."

"It's possible," Draco murmured

"I don't see how," Harry's tone was almost aggressive.

The bond he had with Malfoy could not quite be viewed as friendship. They were too wary of each other for that; yet they did have more links than it seemed at first glance. Each was a mixture of both Houses, even if the characteristics of their Sorted house was dominant.

Harry was brave, courageous, everything a Gryffindor should be. Yet the fragment of the Dark Lord within him hissed serpentine tendencies into his heart, turning him Slytherin.

Draco on the other hand would be the personification of Slytherin, if not for his inclination for more chivalrous antics. Despite the people who clustered around him, few of those were ones he could actually consider friends; in reality, he was alone, but bore it well.

"Snape told us, Potter," Draco snapped; yet he wasn't harsh with it, "Your father and Black were friends in school. It wouldn't surprise me if he sent a gift."

"Yeah, well he's try to kill me," Harry rolled his eyes; "Why send me such an expensive present?"

"Good question Potter. Why?" the blonde muttered, impatient

It took Harry a moment to absorb the implications of what the Slytherin was saying.

"You don't think he is," Harry spoke slowly, profoundly disbelieving

"Finally got it, huh?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Why?" Harry tilted his head, "No one else does."

"My father," now Draco's voice carried traces of real bitterness; "He's…closer to the dark Wizards Black supposedly helps. Come off it Potter, you think everyone's perfect? He doesn't mention Black without a sneer. I just don't think they agree, so, not Black."

Draco's head fell back as he recounted his theory; weary, and irritated at being so open. The pale boy wasn't used to telling so many of his secrets.

O

The Doctor swung on a rocking chair; one spelled up by Dumbledore. The headmaster watched with some amusement at the Time Lord's childlike antics.

The Office looked much the same as normal; save for a flat piece of parchment stretched out on the headmaster's desk. The Marauder's Map: giving the location of every students and teacher at Hogwarts, as well as the location of all Vashta-Nerada. At that time, there was only one swarm within the castle; and it was gradually being forced away by Lupin and a few of his advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts students, _Lumos _upon _Lumos _being lit near it, warding off the shadow.

"Something is amiss in Hogwarts," Dumbledore murmured, once the Doctor ceased swinging on the chair.

"What, another thing?" the Doctor leant forwards. "I'm guessing you're not talking about shadows or Sirius."

"I am afraid so," Dumbledore bowed his head; "Last night, I looked at the Map. Footsteps ceased; a person vanished. I did not see their name, only that they were alone, and they disappeared."

"Pansy," the Doctor's face fell; naming the Slytherin girl who'd been the latest victim of the Vashta-Nerada

"I do not believe so," Dumbledore shook his head, "There were no shadows near."

"But that's impossible," the Doctor frowned; "You're not supposed to just appear and disappear in Hogwarts. I generally like impossible stuff, not this kind though."

Fawkes flew a circle around the top of the Office. The phoenix slowed as he neared the window; looking out over the dense cloud. A soft caw. Then he descended once more to his perch.

"If only we could do something about those clouds…" the Doctor murmured, frowning.

Seconds later, he leapt up to his feet, slapping his own forehead.

"I take it you've found a solution?" Dumbledore remarked mildly. He spoke with controlled calmness; yet that was not to say he wasn't pleased.

"Of course," the Doctor fell back to the chair, "Oh, I'm thick sometimes. Really. All we need is a little sunshine; and I've made it snow before! A little atmospheric excitation, blow the clouds away, a little superposition, oh there are so many ways to make it sunny."

"I'll take your word for it," Dumbledore said, dryly. The Doctor rolled his eyes;

"The TARDIS! It'd be easier if Kazran was here, but forget that; unless you are Kazran? No? Oh well. Well, those clouds were different; but here, oh it's good old Earth. Besides, what's the difference between snow and Sun?" the Time Lord inhaled; "Quite a few degrees actually. Let's not talk about that."

The Doctor started rocking on his chair again; distracted.

It was a good sign; he had a way to repel the Vashta-Nerada; only, he couldn't do it just yet. Not while the Dementors were around, those fiends brought the clouds with them. Of course, when they were gone, the shadows would be sent back into their home: the Forbidden Forest.

There was a reason it was forbidden, after all.

Minutes later, Remus Lupin ran into the headmaster's office: his face was urgent, and the signs of the coming full moon were written all over him. Anxiety, and a touch of savageness.

"Lupin!" the Doctor's face cracked into a grin; "What's your opinion on mistletoe?"

Remus looked sideways at the Doctor, blinking once; "I don't really have one. Can I say something important now?"

"Oh sure," the Time Lord shrugged, "Just double checking. Some werewolves have a problem with it."

Remus Lupin stared, not amused, at the Doctor. The teacher blinked, breathing heavily for a few seconds, before stating his self-described important message.

"There's a Dementor by the front gates. It keeps coming back." Lupin stated simply.

The Doctor and Dumbledore looked at each other for a moment, urgent. The headmaster lifted one arm, the Doctor held his wrist, and they disapparated.

The front gates; grey, mottled flesh beneath a black robe hovered, menacing. The air around it seemed somehow hollow, devoid of anything resembling light. The ground beneath it, the struggling grass, was covered in a parasitic sheen of frost.

Hissing escaped the unseen maw.

"Leave Hogwarts," the Doctor said, the instant he appeared. There was no room for misunderstanding in his voice; all trace of his generally easygoing nature had been lost to the darkness.

The Dementor hissed at him.

"Payment," the one word sent shivers down the spines of so many students; they were looking out of windows up several towers. Most couldn't hear, though some had higher-year students able to cast a spell, giving them the ability to eavesdrop. Even unable to understand the fiend's word, the venom, the cold menace dripping from each syllable was evident.

"No," the Doctor's voice was like some unbreakable barrier

"You asked for our aid," the voice from beneath the cloak was unable to understand the Doctor's point of view; yet it did not seem to care about understanding.

"I did," the Doctor murmured, voice faltering for a moment. He looked down; "And I've paid for it ever since. You know you're not going to get anything, so just go."

The black cloak swirled. The draining presence of it amplified for a moment; as if a weight pressed down on the Doctor. The Time Lord tensed.

The Dementor snarled. Vehemence struck the Doctor and Dumbledore like a blow; and the foggy sable below the rags seemed to swell. An eyeless gaze focused on each of them.

A spin of a dark cloak; the Dementor lunged for the Doctor, springing at him, draining the joy. Its maw widened; to steal the soul of the Time Lord.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Dumbledore bellowed, wand instantly in his hand.

A shining white phoenix soared through the air, wings outstretched and letting sparks of light cascade from its incandescent wings. The phoenix circled through the air, nearing the Dementor.

With one last, snarling hiss, the Dementor turned, forced away from the Doctor. It glided away into the darkness.


	10. The Shadows Descend

***Hides***

"Don't forget to _Lumos_," the Doctor stood just above Harry. The Boy Who Lived looked strangely up at the Time Lord: "Trust me," the man continued.

Confused, Harry nodded.

Harry was just outside Hagrid's hut; about to speak to the giant. Hermione and Ron were already inside; only the black haired boy had slowed, to speak to the Doctor.

The Doctor looked around; taking note of Buckbeak in the garden. It seemed Draco had decided not to press charges after all; the Hippogriff was free.

The Time Lord frowned; it seemed that, despite his efforts, there had been a little change to the timeline. He wondered why: maybe it was due to the events last year, Lellorian and the like.

Whatever the cause was, it didn't really matter at that instant.

At the Doctor's best estimate, today was the day when Harry would meet Sirius, at last. Time was visibly working to correct itself; Harry was visiting Hagrid despite barely having a reason. To help, the Doctor had escorted him and Ron and Hermione from Hogwarts; a necessary action, otherwise they wouldn't be permitted to leave the castle. The threat of the Vashta-Nerada had achieved that.

A large, black, shaggy dog ambled up to beside the standing Time Lord. They both watch Hagrid's Hut for a few minutes, the trio inside.

Subconsciously, the Doctor reached out a hand, lightly patting the dog's head. It yapped up at him.

"Sorry," the Doctor winced, self-conscious. "It's a habit. Picked it up in Barcelona."

The dog shook its head, ears wagging, before pacing a few steps away from the Doctor.

"Oh, don't be like that!" the Doctor called, "I just wanted to talk."

The dog barked, tentatively slinking closer. It whimpered softly, looking up at the Doctor with wide eyes.

"You'll meet Pettigrew soon," the Doctor knelt down, crooning a little. He scratched the dog's head, before looking guiltily at his hand, and stopping.

The dog barked, quite loudly. The Doctor frantically tried to shush it; and it obeyed, shaking its furry head in a very human-like gesture.

"Your godson's in there too," the Doctor continued, quiet, "But he thinks you're to blame from the murder of his parents," at that, the animal yapped again, loudly, "They're about to meet Pettigrew. Well, Scabbers, same thing. Normally Buckbeak would also be important, but not in this timeline, so don't worry about that. He might still have a hand in the rescue, we'll see…" the Time Lord's voice trailed off. "I really shouldn't be telling you all this."

There were a few minutes of silence; punctuated only by muffled, unintelligible voices from within Hagrid's Hut. The Doctor sighed, bored as always by the linear time everyone else had to deal with.

Eventually, Hagrid opened the door of the hut, stepping out. He waved a giant hand:

"Hi Doctor," he bellowed. The Time Lord nodded back, waving with one hand. A little more silence, before the giant again shouted; "C'mon Fang!"

The black dog from beside the doctor perked up, getting to its four feet and running up, eagerly to its giant owner. The Doctor looked down at it, blinking, confused, as Hagrid took it into the hut.

"Thanks for that," Sirius stepped out of the trees behind the Time Lord, "I like to think I don't look much like that mutt."

The Doctor was still looking from the hut and Fang, to the prisoner, confused.

"Not my fault," he said sullenly after about half a minute, "I never really saw you as a dog. Just a couple of times."

"Don't worry about it," Sirius moved past the Doctor, "I hid out as that Fang once or twice."

"Speaking of hiding out," the Doctor nodded slowly, "Should you really be looking all human right now?"

"No one's around," the prisoner shrugged, "And the fleas are unbearable," Sirius peered down at the hut, "So, Pettigrew's in there?"

"Yep," the Doctor jumped, "We're near the end of the book."

Sirius shot him a strange look, before frowning, and looking way, again focusing on the hut. The Sun moved visibly through the sky, before the trio walked out.

"Go get `em Fido," the Doctor muttered; and an instant later, Sirius, now as a dog, bounded past.

The Time Lord watched them for several seconds; Ron struggling with the rat in his coat, straining to get away from the dog, Harry and Hermione trying vainly to help: the rat leapt from his pocket, in the air for a split second. Ron reached out, catching it, a few steps away from the others.

Then, in a flash, Sirius was by them, aiming for Pettigrew, but instead grabbing Ron. Nonetheless, seeing that the redhead held the rat, he dragged him away.

A little later, after some quite impressive running around the Whomping Willow, they were out of sight, hidden within the tree.

Smiling, trusting time to take care of itself, the Doctor turned, to walk back to Hogwarts. Approximately half a step later, he froze.

The Vashta-Nerada were the main threat; the carnivorous shadows, lurking in the Forest and so many places outside Hogwarts. Hopefully, Harry would remember to _Lumos_: but that was hardly permanent protection. Hopefully, people from the castle, as dictated by books, would be able to go and help him. Bring him back to the castle.

But that was no use.

In the Forest, Sirius and Harry would be assailed by so many Dementors. Partly because Sirius was their reason for being here; their prey, but also because of the strong emotions, attracting them to Sirius and Harry.

And in any case, they were here for Black, not to protect Hogwarts from the shadows. And in consequence…

In consequence, for quite some time later tonight, Hogwarts would be defenceless. The Vashta-Nerada would no longer be repelled by the Dementors: those cloaked fiends would be deep within the Forest.

Hogwarts would be attacked. Possibly even overcome by the Vashta-Nerada.

The Doctor set off at a run.

O

An emergency assembly; all students were made sure to be in their Common Rooms, and the portraits were barred from letting anyone out. Only Harry Ron and Hermione, as time dictated, were outside of the castle. The Prefects and teachers were all in the Great Hall, along with the kitchen house-elves: Dobby was among their number. In short, some of the most powerful, most responsible wizards of Hogwarts School.

At the head of the hall, the Doctor and Albus Dumbledore stood. The wizards looked up at the duo; only Lupin and Snape were not present, both sent off after Sirius, again as tiem dictated.

"Silence!" Dumbledore boomed, wand at his throat.

"In the library," the Doctor mumbled, just behind him, before frowning; "No, wait, sorry. Wrong shadows. Carry on."

Unable to hold back a twinkle in his eye, Dumbledore looked back over the Hall, voice still magically amplified.

"You all know of the Vashta-Nerada," the headmaster began, watching a nervous ripple pass through the crowds; even through the house-elves. "They are held back from Hogwarts by the Dementors. For this one time, they were of use. Still, I have heard that the Dementors are distracted: soon to head elsewhere. For this reason, we must defend Hogwarts from the shadows, tonight."

The headmaster stepped back, nodding to the Doctor. The Time Lord frowned, eyes darting around before widening; he nodded, stepping forwards, closer to the main crowd. He opened his mouth to talk, but faltered. Quietly, he muttered something to Dumbledore, inaudible. The headmaster nodded, and replied by waving his wand.

The Doctor blinked a couple of times, stretching his neck, and then following that, faced the crowd once again. he spoke, voice now magically amplified.

"Hello Hogwarts!" he grinned broadly upon saying that, clapping his hands together, "Right then, you all know about the Vashta-Nerada. Also known as 'the shadows that melt the flesh', but that's dark and scary, so we won't mention it. They'll be coming here tonight; the Dementors won't be protecting us, so it won't be anything like before."

Despite his words, somehow, the Doctor was grinning. He paid little attention to the worried murmurs in the Great Hall, and the few house-elves that looked at each other, a little nervous. Only Dobby seemed to be completely resolute; and that w as more from trust in the Doctor than knowledge of Vashta-Nerada. Clad in a tea cosy and too many socks, the house-elf was an unlikely embodiment of bravery.

"Right then," the Doctor said again, "Lumos everybody! Lots of Lumos! Actually, 'Lumos Solem' I think the spell went. The Vashta-Nerada hate light: it doesn't really harm them, but it delays them. In large enough quantities, it might even repel them. That's what we need to do! Now, you lot are meant to be good at magic. Hagrid has put a ring of dead ferrets around the castle, the instant one's been devoured, the Vashta-Nerada are here. Lumos and don't stop!"

The giant bowed from the far end of the hall: Hagrid, being unable to defend himself properly, had been invited up to the castle, with Fang, to be more secure, defended by all these witches and wizards.

"I think that's all," the Doctor frowned, counting off on his fingers; "Lumos Solem, when a ferret's been eaten, and if anyone near you is spelling, then they might've seen something. Keep it going for as long as you can."

An excitable house-elf flashed with a sudden spark, a premature Lumos. Jittering, embarrassed, it toned down the light, until it held a gaseous, softly luminescent ball between its grey palms. With a squeak, it extinguished the light.

The Doctor turned away from the crowd, back to Dumbledore. He spoke again, the amplification spell having faded:

"Albus," he said, "Do you think bow ties would make a good addition to the school uniform?"

O

The full moon shone down; beneath its light, Lupin was writhing, transforming into a wolf, Sirius and Snape, at odds with each other, were herding Ron, Hermione and Harry back, out of the wolf's path, and Sirius was morphing into a dog.

The werewolf turned, to glare at them through its savage eyes. Any trace of Remus had long since been lost; the elongated snout quivered, saliva dripping to the ground.

And then, wolfish sense brought it to a halt. It still exhaled, still snarled, but there was something in the shadows, something it could sense.

Howling, the werewolf leapt towards them, savage. It lifted a claw to swipe at them-

And was knocked away by the canine Sirius. The two four-legged forms tumbled away, with only the werewolf out to do serious harm: the black dog was yapping, defending, yet doing his best to keep the werewolf free from harm.

Eyes wide, Harry moved to follow, urgently seeking his godfather. Now he knew Sirius wasn't to blame; it was the fled Pettigrew's fault. He needed to-

Snape's hand tightly gripped his shoulder, stopping him moving. Angry, Harry span back, knocking the potion's masters' hand away. "Stop it!" he shouted, agonized

"Calm yourself Potter," the tight-lipped Snape muttered, "be thankful you are still alive."

In a burst of anger, harry lifted his wand, shouting "_Stupefy!_" before Snape could react. The black-haired teacher fell, stunned, to the ground. "Take him back to the castle, it's safer there," Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, nodding, before turning, and running after his godfather.

Sirius was found, human form, and laying unconscious on the forest floor. The werewolf had departed; fled from creatures only it could sense.

Unaware, or perhaps uncaring, of the creatures which made even a werewolf flee, Harry ran over to Sirius, kneeling beside his godfather. The man was struggling to breath; scratched, bruised, yet just managing to survive, unconscious.

Harry looked up, to see a back cloak hovering over a lake. The water did not freeze, and the depressive aura of a Dementor did not affect Harry. The shadow beneath the black cloak slowly drew closer.

Lips parched, fingers numb with cold, Harry struggled with his wand, just managing to get it in his grip. He looked up at the rags, and the empty blackness they garbed. An unintelligible shout left his lips; supposedly a spell, yet it could not be identified.

The black cloak drew so much closer.

The water beneath it began to freeze. It too slowed. Harry saw his breath come out of his mouth; each as a wintry cloud, and frost seemed to spread.

Hoarfrost spread along the ground, and the air itself became cold, seemingly on the verge of freezing itself. The shadow within the cloak looked around; to see other, equally dark cloaks surround the brief clearing, all with grey, mottled flesh, sallow hands reaching out.

The Dementors closed in on the clearing; Harry fumbled again with his wand, muttering a charm again and again. "Expecto Patronum, Expecto Patronum…" he couldn't quite get up the focus, not in this bitter cold, not with Sirius, unconscious, so close.

The first cloak he saw seemed to flee; and yet the Dementors were no longer interested in that. They moved towards Harry and Sirius, draining away any trace of happiness in the air.

"E_xpecto Patronum!_" Harry shouted weakly. The spell required a joyful memory, something powerful to keep the Dementors away: Harry had no joy left.

A faint white wisp emanated from his wand, easily dismissed by the oncoming Dementors. The moved ever-closer, the grey skin beneath their hoods almost visible. One such fiend slowed, using mottled fingers to lower its hood.

The deformed, cadaverous maw of a Dementor was before Harry, slowly opening. The Dementor's Kiss: the loss of all happiness, all joy.

The loss of his soul.

His wand fell from his grip, as he looked into the abyss of darkness, struggling to focus on anything, let alone a Patronus.

He needed aid; needed someone to perform a great, powerful Patronus, something strong to repel all these fiends.

And yet no one came to help.

O

"_Lumos Solem!_" the shout was first raised by some Prefect on the far side of the castle. The Doctor stood in Dumbledore's Office: the headmaster insisted the Time Lord stay there, for protection. He couldn't protect himself with magic.

He watched from the window; seeing a flare of light rise, a perfect circle around Hogwarts, the perfect barrier against the Vashta-Nerada. Perfect light against perfect darkness.

Dumbledore was somewhere down there; wand raised to join the chorus of brightness, with house-elves and Prefects and teachers alike. The cries of _Lumos Solem_ were almost audible, even as high as Dumbledore's Office: it wouldn't surprise the Doctor to learn that the students had all been awoken by it.

Shadow could be seen, visibly seeping, unnaturally, towards Hogwarts, writhing like some immense creature, battling against the light, sometimes proving victorious, sometimes relenting. Stalemate.

Fawkes flew over, perching on the Doctor's shoulder. His flames seemed somehow brighter; glowing with enough might to repel any shadows itself, it appeared.

The Doctor looked out over the barrier of light far below; an impregnable wall of magical light, against the assault of Vashta-Nerada.

A bright flash of green caught his attention; he peered sideways, only catching a glimpse of the side of the light. He couldn't focus in on anything around it; not the cause, not anything.

But from the place at which the green flash was cast, the light started to go out.

The Doctor stared, incredulous, as the shadow started to break past the last defences of Hogwarts. It drifted like acid, overcoming the circle of heavenly light.

The plague of Vashta-Nerada spread. Several wizards and elves could be seen, valiantly protecting themselves with light, but the circle was broken. There wasn't enough light to repel the ravenous shadows; strengthened by recent feeding. _Lumos _only bore enough strength to protect one side; and without the complete ring, that strength just wasn't quiet adequate.

Almost one quarter of the circle had been devoured before anyone reacted. The Doctor could just stare.

Silence consumed Hogwarts.

A light started to emanate from the wall of Dumbledore's Office: the Time Lord stepped back, holding the sonic screwdriver forwards as if it were a sword. The light came through the wall, phasing through the brick. A shining white phoenix: Dumbledore's Patronus.

"Professor Burbage was killed," Dumbledore's kindly voice came from the phoenix; urgent, "As were the people around her. The shadows-"

The Patronus flickered out; signalling a loss of energy. The caster had died.

The Doctor could barely stand up; this couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. He was supposed to be saving Hogwarts; keeping it safe from the Vashta-Nerada, not watching it succumb to darkness.

Panting, he ran to the gargoyle entrance; pounding on the door. Nothing: "Let me out!" he shouted, still pounding on the wooden door; it wouldn't let him past, to descend the gargoyle.

"No can do, I'm afraid," the casual voice of the statue beyond caught the Doctor off guard; "Direct orders from Albus Dumbledore, not to let you out until it's safe."

The Time Lord staggered back, disbelieving. He couldn't leave; he was stuck in there, helpless.

Fawkes hovered over to him, cawing slightly. The Doctor looked around, jumping at the slight noise. Then, thinking, he sat down on the floor of the office, phoenix at his side.

"Amy and Rory are out there," he murmured, brokenly, to himself. They were probably in the Gryffindor Common Rooms. And it wasn't safe there; not with Vashta-Nerada coming in.

Around the still Time Lord, Hogwarts was dying.

He couldn't leave Dumbledore's Office, the sonic screwdriver wouldn't get past the wooden door, not to mention animating the gargoyle: and even if he could, what then? He might be able to reach the TARDIS, but that would be useless. The shadows were already seeping through the castle. Dumbledore had already lost his life to them.

Quickly, an idea forming in his head, the Doctor stood up, running the few steps to Dumbledore's desk. The Marauder's Map lay on top of it; keen, the Doctor ran his eyes over it.

Seconds later, he stepped back, slumping. The shining Fawkes perched once more on his shoulder.

The whole castle was now swarming with Vashta-Nerada. He couldn't make out a single human name; not one. Just the shadows.

The death of Hogwarts weighed on his mind; he struggled to stand again, feeling it like a physical ill. Panting, the Doctor stood before the window, staring out over the grounds of Hogwarts school. There was no light; not one Lumos. In consequence, not one wizard.

Seconds later, and the shadow rushed into the Office.

The Doctor turned, arms held at his sides, posture open. He looked at the darkness as if it were a friend. "Come on then," he spoke, not aggressively, not as a challenge; but as acceptance.

The Vashta-Nerada swarmed closer-

Fawkes flew in front of him, flaming wings spread wide. A blinding flash erupted from his vivid plumage, the Doctor turned, covering his eyes with his forearm. Again, the phoenix flashed, burst upon burst of light.

Several minutes passed, before the shadows were repelled. Fawkes landed, still iridescent, on the Time Lord's shoulder.

The last survivors of Hogwarts.


	11. Defying Darkness

**Hopefully this'll be a good ending to Darkness. Even if the previous cliffhanger was evil...  
Upcoming: part four will, most probably, be called 'Mind Games'.  
****In any case, well done to those of you who can spot classic series references in this one! I could't resist adding a couple.  
Already, you can probably find a few lead-ins for the ongoing story.  
...long ranting author's note almost over! In any case, enjoy! **

"Hello there," the Doctor crooned softly to the shining Fawkes, scratching just under the phoenix's flaming beak.

He wouldn't think about it, he just wouldn't think about it. Hogwarts had fallen around him: the Marauder's Map showed a complete lack of any human life. Vashta-Nerada dominated the corridors.

The teachers were dead; the students were dead. Amy and Rory had lost their lives; as had Dumbledore.

Who knew what had happened to Harry and the others? They were outside the castle, lost.

With the Dementors.

Panting, the Doctor stood up, again looking out the window. The gargoyle wouldn't let him leave the Office; and if he stepped out without Fawkes, the shadows would devour him. And even then, he wouldn't be able to bring back Hogwarts-

No, don't think about that. Work on that later.

The phoenix cawed once again; the Time Lord looked sideways to Fawkes. He ran his eyes over the flame feathers of the bird; and grinned.

Hogwarts was veiled in night. Dawn was far away, and the stars were concealed by cloud. The Dementors were distant, yet the effect lingered. Utter darkness reigned; the perfect haven for the Vashta-Nerada.

The lifeless castle stood there; intact. The shadows had harmed only the lives within. Like a ghost town; undamaged, but empty.

A shining flare burst out of Dumbledore's Office, shattering the window. The Doctor tightly gripped Fawkes' talons, guarded by the light shining from his feathers.

They spiralled down, landing in a courtyard. The Doctor rolled away, panting, grinning, whooping from excitement. Fawkes hopped up, standing again, just beside the Time Lord.

"Well, that was fun," despite the blanket of darkness over Hogwarts, the Doctor still managed to grin. In one hand he clutched the Marauder's Map: which he promptly consulted. There were few Vashta-Nerada in this courtyard. It was safe, mostly.

First things first. The shadows prevented him doing anything.

The TARDIS was still running; quite a way outside Hogwarts, but still there. Set up to banish the cloud; if it ever became day, sunlight would repel the shadow. And in any case, it was safe there, Vashta-Nerada wouldn't be able to get through the doors.

A place to wait. A place to collapse. A place to cry.

The Doctor staggered to his feet, holding out his forearm. Fawkes flapped his wings twice, before landing on the sleeve of the Time Lord's jacket; a few cinders fell from its fiery feathers.

"No ruining the bow tie," the Doctor croaked to Fawkes, deathly serious.

Then he turned, walking through the shadow-infested Hogwarts. Alone. Guarded by phoenix-light, and guided by the Map, the Time Lord was a somewhat pitiful figure. Gone was his normal gusto, his normal hyperactive step. It was replaced by a gait of only slightly more life than the castle around him.

A white ghost hovered towards the Time Lord: the Doctor turned, nodding amiably to the unknown, ghostly woman. She was young; must have died in Hogwarts, in her second year.

"What happened?" she exhaled, breathless, eyes darting around madly. She was garbed in fluttering school robes.

The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment, unbearably regretful; "What House were you in?" he spoke, changing the subject out of an unwillingness to remember the swarming of shadow

"Ravenclaw," she shivered, "Everyone just turned to skeletons. It rushed over us. We-we all died." The ghost winced at the memories.

"You're one of the students," the Doctor bowed his head, afraid to meet her eyes, "I'm sorry. I really am so, so sorry."  
"What happened?" the ghost shivered, speaking again, not impatiently, shaking, "Did it…did it happen everywhere? I can't see anyone…" her voice trailed off

"It did," the Doctor croaked. As he said it, speech seemed to become easier. The words were on the air; the death of Hogwarts had been acknowledged.

Silence. The Vashta-Nerada swelled around them; Map showing a greater concentration Fawkes' firelight kept them at bay. And the unaware ghost slowly drifted along with the Doctor's purposeful, yet meaningless footsteps.

"I'm Moira," the ghost murmured eventually, just to fill the silence.

The Doctor nodded, letting Moira know he'd heard. But he said nothing; distracted. Instead, the Time Lord walked on, accompanied only by the shining Fawkes, and the ghostly Moira.

They slowed as they passed the outer wall of Hogwarts. Bones dotted the ground; the fleshless remains of the defenders of Hogwarts. Several seemed to be smaller, the skulls somewhat deformed: house-elves. Clothing lay draped over the bleached bones. Ragged cloth in the case of house-elves, and more elaborate robes in the case of the larger skeletons. Several others, prefects, wore the familiar school uniform.

The Doctor didn't dare look at them. He didn't focus on any of the skeletons. His wasn't willing to know the specifics: for once, he was afraid to know the specific identities of those who lay lifeless around him.

Guilt reigned in his mind. He should have been able to help them, he should have been able to save them. Instead, he'd betrayed Dumbledore's trust, allowed Dementors into the castle…

This may have been his fault.

They moved past the lost guardians of Hogwarts. The shadows had gone into the castle; now the Doctor moved out. It wasn't an easy movement; it felt as if he was surrendering Hogwarts to the Vashta-Nerada.

They were both ghosts. The Doctor walked gracefully, barely noticing the ground beneath his feet. Hogwarts had lost its life. Amy and Rory had died.

And ice clawed at his heart.

The Time Lord stopped where he was; Moira looked sideways at him, confused. Her pale expression turned to fear, as she beheld a black cloak glide closer.

"It was them," she spoke from transparent, white lips: "They were there when we died."

"Not this kind," the Doctor responded, eyes staring at the Dementor, noting grey, mottled fingers behind the cloak.

The fiend neared the Doctor, slowing to a halt approximate one metre away. Silence for a few seconds. Darkness glared beneath the hood.

A harsh hissing emanated from the creature's maw. The Doctor didn't blink once, watching the sable robes. As if daring it to try anything.

"The prisoner has been apprehended," the Dementor hissed, speaking in tones that seemed almost official. "He who aided is punished."

The Doctor tensed imperceptibly. Harry and Sirius.

"What do you mean?" the Doctor demanded. There was an uncharacteristic aggressive edge to his voice.

"They are punished," the Dementor repeated. Beneath the rags, it seemed almost smug.

The Doctor didn't need to ask any more; the Dementor's Kiss. At his side, Moira shivered. Though she couldn't understand the fiend, she heard the venom in its voice.

"Stop this," the Doctor said. An impassable statement.

Silence. The reaper beneath the robe seemed to freeze, unseen eyes watching the Doctor.

"We will not," the Dementor grated once more, nearing the Doctor.

The Time Lord closed his eyes, ready, resigned almost. Moira could only watch; and the shining Fawkes, the only source of light, couldn't help. The Dementor moves to lower its hood, revealing grey, corpse-like flesh to the night air. The soul-stealing maw opened.

The Doctor glared straight into the abyss.

"Not right now," he said simply, a formidable fire burning behind his eyes. The Dementor didn't seem to want to pay attention; the Doctor stiffened, sensing the Dementor feeding on his experiences.

The strangest memory came back to him. It wasn't a particularly happy one, but neither was it sad. Reinette, speaking to him: _"A door once opened may be stepped through in either direction."_

The Doctor kept his eyes focused on the black wraith, keeping on his feet with lifetimes of endurance, as every single tragedy in his past was dragged up.

Susan, Jenny, Adric, Donna, Rose, Jack, Martha, Brigadier, Samantha, Grace, River, Romana-

_The shadows were rushing in, overcoming the ring of light. The Patronus faded; Dumbledore had lost his life. And still, the shadow moved on, a plague, unstoppable, ferocious, devouring._

He tensed; but his eyes were still open. He kept that one tie to reality as the Dementor stole more of his life.

_One day, I shall come back, yes, I shall come back. Seven lifetimes that promise haunted him. He could never quite bring himself to do so._

Tense, he swam against the current, darkness pervading the air around him, seeping into his mind and hearts. The Dementor wanted his soul: he could have it.

And everything that came with it.

The Doctor raised his neck, eyes looking directly into the endless maw of the fiend. Unblinking. Unfaltering.

_Now I'll never know if I was right. _Grandfather! _I never would. _Rose Tyler, I- _I've lived too long. _They break my heart. _Spoilers._ This is me, getting out. _I'm not just a Time Lord. I'm the last of the Time Lords._

Now the Doctor was standing there, resolute. It was the Dementor who was shaking; black robes rippling as it shuddered. It began to break away from the Kiss, drifting back; the Doctor kept his glare focused on it, semi-threatening, semi-regretful. The fire within them still burned, yet now it was colder, warmth as opposed to a blaze.

Two seconds of the Kiss had passed.

Silence.

"What was that?" Moira stuttered, looking after the fleeing darkness.

"It wanted my mind," the Doctor spoke, in a croak, almost regretful. "I let it have it. Every memory, every experience. It couldn't bear one second of my past."

The ghost turned, if possible, even paler: "How do you bear it?"

"Sometimes," the Doctor looked away, again moving for the TARDIS, "Sometimes, I don't think I do."

The Time Lord moved, almost coldly through the night. He felt so- so helpless. The TARDIS was a time machine; but it travelled separately to time, through the vortex. Any use of it would be a change in time; and even when time itself was different, the use of the TARDIS would make things so much worse.

It was a box. A shelter. And the instant he travelled away, things were lost.

Panting, he reached the comforting blue box. He opened it, gesturing the ghostly Moira inside. She followed, pale eyes looking around, awed.

Click. Whoosh. Beep. Clouds dispelled from the console. It felt somehow less dramatic than it should be; it did next to nothing. Vashta-Nerada would be somewhat repelled: so what? The harm was already done.

Still, the Doctor did it; giving the shining Fawkes a chance to dim, as he rested on the console. The Doctor too sat back on a seat; Moira floated beside him.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed.

Knock, knock.

The Time Lord looked up suddenly. Knock, knock. Someone, something, was beating on the TARDIS door. A steady, disjointed rhythm.

"At least it's not four times," he muttered to himself, standing and moving for the door. Moira floated to his side, tense. Fawkes cawed, watching from the console.

Ready to run, or do whatever the situation demanded, the Doctor placed his hand on the door, and-

In stumbled a ragged Remus Lupin, veiled in the light of dawn and wearing the ragged remains of his robe. Suddenly urgent again, the Doctor cleared another seat, helping the recently-reverted werewolf down. Lupin exhaled, weary.

"What happened to Hogwarts?" Remus said; his first words upon recovering breath.

"A green flash," the Doctor said, with slow, measured breathing. "We were protecting the castle from Vashta-Nerada, everyone cast Lumos in a ring, a barrier around it: I saw from Dumbledore's Office. There was a green flash, the ring broke, and now…" the Doctor hesitated, "The shadows got in. This is all that's left," his voice was little more than a croak.

Silence. Fawkes, Moira, the Doctor and Lupin rested in the TARDIS.

"What happened out there?" the Doctor attempted to strike up a conversation. Moira drifted idly away, unable to help in the exchange

"You should know most of it," Lupin said, running his nails down the side of his neck, scratching a wolfish itch, "Sirius was innocent. We got outside, and there was a full moon: I didn't take my potion last night. Then I woke up."

Moira drifted through the console room, feeling as helpless as the others. She shouldn't be here; she was just a victim of these 'Vashta-Nerada'. Too scared of death to fall completely, now she haunted the world. Useless.

Giving a wispy sigh, she hovered through the TARDIS doors, not even bothering to have them opened. Her insubstantial, grey frame passed through them easily.

The Doctor blinked, before moving to bring her back; Remus grabbed his arm: "She's not in any danger," the teacher murmured.

Lupin knew how she felt. He felt it every month. Part of him died every full moon, and he was helpless to stop the rampage of the wolf. Even after all these years, he wasn't used to it. Every time he recovered, he needed silence, needed quiet: to recall himself.

Moira appeared to need the same. A chance to recover: the chance to grow more used to life as she was.

It was almost an hour before she returned.

When she did, her ghostly hands were shaking; eyes paler, and the normal grey of her incorporeal frame seemed somehow fainter. The Doctor stood, hopping over to her, urgent, worried.

"Harry Potter," she said, simply. Her voice shook: somewhere between disbelieving and plain frightened.

The Doctor leapt over any obstacles, even passing through Moira, and pushed out the TARDIS door. No protective _Lumos _was needed now; the banishing of cloud let an almost-blinding sunlight descend, illuminating the distant, barren crags of Hogwarts. His eyes scanned the landscape, until he located a tiredly wandering figure, distant, shambling.

He neared the black haired boy; easily identifiable as Harry Potter. Ripped robes garbed his form, glasses had fallen off, lost in the Forest, tiny marks, cuts, were struck along his face, and dirt and grime were smeared all over him. His scar was blackened with dust.

Worst of all though, was his eyes. Wide, unblinking, staring out. Yet there was no life in them: they were there. End. No telltale flicker, no reaction to anything. Just dilated pupils, the darkness encompassing almost the whole of his eyes. Black. Soulless.

"No…" the Doctor exhaled. Nothing more he could say.

The Dementor's Kiss. The stealing of a soul.

"What is it?" Remus hurried over to the Doctor, soon slowing, aghast. "The Dementors are the foulest creature," he said after several silent moments, "But I did not dare think even they'd do this to an innocent."

"We were supposed to avoid this," the Doctor continued to stare into the abyss of Harry's empty eyes. The Time Lord's voice seemed on the verge of a sob: too much had happened. "The books. He saved himself: a Patronus. It was a stag, like his father. He used Hermione's time-turner, to save himself."

A moment of silence.

Then the Doctor leapt into the air, whooping, and giving a bewildered Remus a high-five.

"Part of events!" the Time Lord beamed, "The same playground, so it can't cause a paradox!"

Understanding slowly dawned on Lupin's face.

"Now, where's Hermione?" the Doctor grinned, smile slipping only slightly.

A

"_Lumos Solem!_" the shout went out around the whole of Hogwarts.

From the line of the barrier, Percy Weasley covered his eyes with the sleeve of his robe, blocking the blinding light. His wand was raised high in the air, a resplendent star shimmering at the tip.

Darkness tried to near; the light repelled it.

His own spell blended with those of everyone around him. One lone sphere became part of a grand ring, encircling the whole of Hogwarts.

And it held.

A sudden flash of green; Percy turned, keeping his wand shining, to see the brief form of a woman. She had long, tangled hair, arrayed chaotically, and outlining a pale face. She seemed to almost be snarling; and that was all Percy saw. She vanished in a sudden flash of blue.

The Prefect turned around further, the world seeming to move in slow motion. The green flash seemed to be suspended in midair, unmoving, pointed towards the professor Charity Burbage.

Then it exploded, sending green sparks cascading everywhere.

A shining red phoenix rose from the ashes in the air. Fawkes: as bright as ever, having taken the killing curse.

Panting, the Doctor ran past, a long, silver chain around his neck. "Where's Dumbledore?" he looked sideways at Percy, eyes urgent. Relieved, yet with the knowledge things were still unfinished.

Mutely, the head boy raised his free hand, gesturing towards the front of the castle. The Doctor set off at a run.

O

Dumbledore disapparated with the Doctor: taking them both to the TARDIS. The skies cleared in a whoosh of light; clouds and a great deal of atmospheric interference banished by the little blue box.

The headmaster rejoined the guardians of Hogwarts in their shining circle: to keep the shadows at bay until dawn, while the Doctor ran through the castle, to the headmaster's office.

He stopped for a few moments just outside the Great Hall, to point the sonic screwdriver over at the four hourglasses which stated house point totals. He clicked it once; the green light buzzing for a few seconds. An admirable amount of sapphires clinked down the Ravenclaw vial: for Moira. Gryffindor would still win, but Moira would be close.

He reached the threshold of Dumbledore's Office in little time after that. The gargoyle stared impassively out at him.

"Hello!" the Doctor waved, recounting the password with a grin.

The statue looked down at him, blinking. "I thought you were already inside," it wheedled

"Yeah, small mistake," the Time Lord shrugged, "Can I come in?"

Wordless, the gargoyle allowed him to ascend. Still smiling, he walked into the Office, and paced over to the window at the far end.

"Nice view, huh?" he said sideways, to a certain other Time Lord, who stood next to him, looking out over the castle.

"Yeah," the other-Doctor was smiling. Slowly, he reacted, turning around.

The other-Doctor prodded the Doctor in the chest with one finger, watching the Time Lord sway back, and forwards again.

"Not you again," the other-Doctor sighed. "Is there a Pandorica somewhere in Hogwarts?"

"No," the time-turner-wearing-Doctor shook his head, before frowning: "Well, I don't think so."

"That's one good thing," other-Doctor peered at his counterpart, leering: "Why didn't you tell me to save the fez?"

"I don't know," the Doctor replied, with the exact same, almost forbidding, inflection: "Why didn't you?"

A tense silence. Then both Doctors coughed at once, mutually deciding to continue.

"So…" the other-Doctor began, "What should I do?"

"Use this," the Doctor took off the time-turner, looping it around the other's bow tie; "Go back in time, with Fawkes, and stop the green flash. Then give this back to you, or me, or you, or…" the Doctor's voice trailed off, "I don't think the universe could stand two of us at once."

O

The Sun rose.

With all the clouds dispelled by the TARDIS, it was hard for any Vashta-Nerada to stay out of cover. Most fled back for the Forest: and the few that didn't were soon forced back by patrols of teachers, guided by Dumbledore and the Marauder's Map.

Several of the Prefects and teachers spent a minute or two in the hospital wing: sunburn was a common ailment ever since he forced away the clouds. The sudden burst of sunlight, with no cloud cover and little no to atmospheric interference, had done mild harm to humans as well as Vashta-Nerada. Thinking ahead however, the Doctor had done his best to block out the more dangerous gamma rays. Sunburn was, mostly, the worst consequence of the ordeal.

The Dementors were due to be taken away by Cornelius Fudge. Dumbledore had been unchanging on that demand. Hopefully they'd go before more clouds could be called.

Harry too rested in the hospital Wing. Sirius Black had been captured, and yet miraculously escaped. On an entirely unrelated note, naturally, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny (the latter at the Doctor's urging) were celebrating.

The Doctor was pacing down a corridor when a panting house-elf appeared just next to him.

"Come quick sir," it squeaked, hopping up, urgent.

"Ok," the Doctor looked down, "And don't call me sir. I'm the Doctor."

The elf nodded once, skipping up, and lightly touching the Doctor's hand.

All joviality left the Doctor's expression as they apparated at their destination. They were outside, under the bright Sun and atop a grassy hill. Dumbledore lay, unmoving on the ground.

"Pokey saw a Dementor," the house-elf squeaked, presumably referring to itself. "Master Dumbledore called light, and the Dementor did not care s- Doctor. Master called a phoenix: but this happened too."

As best the Time Lord could tell, Dumbledore had met the Dementor; and presuming it to be Vashta-Nerada, had cast _Lumos._ Then, when it was in truth a genuine Dementor, he had cast a Patronus: just a little too late, and possibly fatigued by the night's magic.

The Doctor knelt down, placing two fingers on the side of the headmaster's head. He closed his eyes.

The house-elf, Pokey, looked around nervously.

"Ariana…" the headmaster murmured weakly: words sounding more like sleep-talk than any conscious speech.

The Doctor withdrew from Dumbledore's mind, taking away his fingers: "Just sleeping," he panted, "Dreaming. He's recovering; he'll be fine."

Then, the Time Lord looked up at Pokey: "Say, do you have a pen and paper?"

A couple of seconds passed; the house-elf vanished with a crack, before reappearing with a roll of parchment and a quill. Nervous, as if expecting judgement, she passed them to the Doctor.

The Time Lord grinned, accepting them. He wrote down a couple of things on the paper, before tucking it into Dumbledore's hand.

_If you ever need me, call me._

After that, he'd written down the TARDIS phone number. Hopefully the headmaster could figure out a way to leave Hogwarts, to call. The Doctor nodded down at the sleeping man, respectful. "You'll be fine," he muttered.

"Fine," Dumbledore echoed, still murmuring, asleep.

The Doctor walked away: he didn't do goodbyes. He'd never been able to manage them.

Now to find Amy and Rory, and depart. Not forever though: he instinctively knew that, sometime, he'd return to Hogwarts.


End file.
